Hostile Territory
by Mireille Bouquet Fan
Summary: Against the backdrop of a civil war, James Bond is sent to Gazth-Sonika to investigate a computer hacker. On the way, he encounters a beautiful young mercenary plying her trade.
1. Chapter 1

This story is set after the end of _Madlax,_ and there will be references to past Bond films. This story should therefore be considered to be containing spoilers for both franchises.

* * *

James Bond and associated characters are owned by Danjaq, L.L.C. and Ian Fleming Publications, based on characters created by Ian Fleming. Rights to the James Bond film series are owned by Danjaq, L.L.C., United Artists Corporation, and Columbia Pictures. Rights to James Bond print media are owned by Ian Fleming publications.

_Madlax_ is owned by Bee Train Entertainment and Victor Entertainment. To the best of my knowledge, the English language version is owned by AEsir Holdings, L.L.C.

All other trademarks and copyrights are the intellectual property of their respective owners.

Certain companies named herein are fictitious, and as such any resemblance to actual business entities currently or previously trading is coincidental.

* * *

I would like to thank everyone consulted for advice, opinions, and general discussion before and during the writing of this work. Your encouragement has persuaded me to write on.

* * *

Hostile Territory

A James Bond and _Madlax_ story

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

The war in Gazth-Sonika raged on. Both sides were still oblivious to the fact that the war was, in fact, started by Enfant, a criminal organisation whose head, an enigmatic man named Friday Monday, started the war with the intent of bringing about a state of anarchy. Friday had believed that the true nature of humanity was a state of constant conflict, fuelled by a core of instinctive, competitive behaviour unrestrained by laws, morals, or ethics.

Sigmund Freud called it the id. Friday called it the human essence.

To achieve this end, Friday had attempted to use the power inherent in a trio of ancient books written by an ancient Asian civilisation that had lived in the area occupied by the country now called Gazth-Sonika. Bringing all three books together gave someone with what was known as 'the Gift' the ability to access another dimension, within which existed the two Doors of Truth and the Era. The Door of Truth, while allowing glimpses into the past, would allow Friday to spread the ancient incantations of this race across the world. The Door of the Era would allow him to effect greater changes in time and space.

The first time, he had been thwarted by Lieutenant Colonel Richard 'Madlax' Burton, a pilot with the Nafrecian Air Force. While he failed to spread anarchy throughout the world, he had succeeded in using this power to inflame already strained relations between the Gazth-Sonikan government and Galza, an antigovernment resistance group then on the verge of declaring open war on the government.

Twelve years later, when Friday regained possession of all three books, he would be thwarted by Margaret Burton, Richard's daughter, and a mercenary named Madlax, who, as it happened, was created by Margaret subconsciously due to her possession of the Gift and the proximity of the three books twelve years prior.

Friday Monday was killed and the books destroyed in a fire.

* * *

Even without the influence of the books, the war continued, in the twelve years following Friday's original attempt to access the Doors, and after Friday's death. It was in this environment that Madlax lived and worked, plying her trade as a mercenary performing security escort duty, rescue, and assassinations.

Madlax lived each day with the possibility of being arrested by the government – not only was she wanted for the deaths of dozens of government soldiers over her short career, she was also the killer of the Commander of the Kingdom Army, General Guen McNichol, and she had also been charged with the murder of a member of the royal family - Jaham Korslan, cousin to the king.

This was how Madlax lived – one day at a time, one job at a time.

* * *

Second Lieutenant Limelda Jorg, a sniper with the Elite Guard, Gazth-Sonika's internal security force tasked with protecting the royal family and the government, was tasked with finding Madlax by Enfant. After finding Madlax, she refrained from killing her, but she declared she would be 'keeping an eye on her' following Friday's death. Feeling betrayed by the Army, she, too, went freelance, selling her services as a keen markswoman and sniper. She still had friends in the Army, however, and as a result, she was able, to an extent, to keep abreast of Army developments, and she had limited access to Army weapons and equipment.

Her seeming obsession with the young mercenary named Madlax, while diminished, still remained, and she made sure to know what it was that Madlax was up to – once in a while. She had, after all, told Madlax that she would still be keeping an eye on her.

* * *

From the author: The story is set in mid-late 2011, a few months after the end of _Madlax._

On Colonel Burton: Although he is known to be a member of a nation's military (or a member of a paramilitary unit) in _Madlax,_ it is never specified which branch of the armed services he belongs to, or what capacity or role he serves in. I referred to him a pilot because:

1. His jacket – the one Madlax wears – is an MA-1 flight jacket, as formerly used by United States Air Force and Navy aviators. The jacket was also exported to Europe for use by European air forces.

2. The jacket has a patch on the breast, as opposed to the shoulders – to the best of my knowledge, only aviators do this.

3. His 'code name', Madlax, could easily be a pilot's callsign.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Please leave feedback/comments!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

Madlax turned and dived as the grenade fell alongside her. Landing on her side, she rolled to her right, gripping her pistol tightly in both hands. Behind her, the grenade exploded, the shockwave forcing her along the ground.

_Just another job,_ she reminded herself. Today's mission was to provide a security escort for Australian and American prospectors whose employer had heard of a platinum deposit in the mountains to the north and wanted to assess the site for viability. The mine that could result had the potential to create jobs and inject income into the Gazth-Sonikan economy – if they didn't all get killed first; the company that sent them knew about the domestic situation and also hired a team of mercenaries to act as security escorts. Two local mercenary agents, one of whom was Madlax, were hired as local guides.

They had left the capital in a small convoy of five SUVs at first light. Eventually, the convoy turned off the roads and drove into the jungle, for the site had no paved roads leading to it, just a worn dirt track, with bushes and trees on either side. Everything was all well and good until an RPG had been fired in front of the lead SUV. Gunfire surrounded them from several points in the jungle. The foreign mercenaries and the two Gazth-Sonikan agents returned fire from either inside the vehicles or from outside after making hasty exits.

The prospectors screamed and cowered, some running or crawling to cover on either side of the dirt path against the advice of the mercenaries, with most remaining in the SUVs that had brought them here. Automatic gunfire filled the jungle air.

The report of an AKS-74U firing from nearby bushes told her that the attackers were Galza – their AKs sounded different to the FAMAS F1 favoured by the Kingdom Army, and besides, the government would not interfere with an operation that had the potential to give the economy a shot in the arm.

Even if it meant capturing or killing her.

Madlax stopped her roll and rose to a crouch. She dug into her MA-1 flight jacket with her left hand, whipping out the other SIG P210 from her dual shoulder holsters. Displaying her typical balletic grace, she sprinted over to the bush, then, approaching the treeline, whirling around as she slowed to fire with her left hand. The man in the bushes saw her, and shifted, raising his carbine.

Madlax fired.

The guerrilla's head snapped backwards with the impact. The man collapsed to the ground, dropping his weapon.

There was movement to the left. Madlax snapped her head around, moving her left arm to line up with the new target. A second Galza guerrilla emerged from behind the tree, bringing his AK-47 up to his shoulder to shoot.

Madlax fired, the shot grazing the man's arm as he shifted to move back behind the tree. She heard a yell and saw the AK-47 fall to the ground at the man's feet. She stood up and started to walk towards the tree.

Movement, this time to her right. Madlax turned her head and raised her right arm. Her finger pulled the trigger.

The shot hit the approaching Galza man in the chest. He dropped his rifle and fell to his knees, then on his face.

This distraction was enough for the man behind the tree to come back around, a Tokarev TT-33 pistol drawn. Madlax turned back around and dived forward as he raised his pistol. She fired a shot at him from each of her pistols, one hitting the tree, the other striking him in the shoulder. The sound of a different automatic weapon filled the air as the man's upper torso was riddled with bullet holes, and the man collapsed, falling to the ground.

Madlax turned to see one of the other mercenaries standing nearby, a British mercenary clad in green and brown woodland fatigues and armed with a Heckler and Koch MP5. "You alright?" he asked her in a Cockney accent.

Madlax nodded. "I'm fine." She then abruptly brought her right arm up and fired on another guerrilla to her right. Behind him was a second guerrilla; Madlax shot him as well.

Behind them, a man screamed. Madlax and the Brit turned in the direction of the scream, Madlax whipping up both of her P210s as she turned.

A Galza fighter had grabbed one of the prospectors and was using him as a human shield, a TT-33 to his right temple. He had the man by the scruff of his collar. "Drop it! Both of you! Or this asshole gets it!"

The Brit snapped his MP5 up, looking at the guerrilla through the sights. "Let him go!" he yelled. "Drop your weapon!"

"Shut up!" The guerrilla glared. "Drop the damn guns!"

"I can't do that."

"Drop 'em! Now!"

The British mercenary hesitated. He slowly started to lower his MP5.

Madlax took one step forward and lowered her left arm, intending to take a shot at his shoulder. The Galza man moved his right arm to shoot Madlax.

She threw herself to the left just as he pulled his trigger. The shot grazed her extended right forearm, and she gritted her teeth in pain, fingers twitching. She dropped the P210 in her right hand.

The Brit raised the MP5.

The prospector twisted free of the guerrilla's grip and dived to his left.

Madlax raised her left arm as she fell.

The guerrilla turned to face the Brit.

He was met with nine rounds in the chest.

Madlax pulled herself up from lying on her side to crouch. She let her right arm hang as she turned back to the prospector. Her eyes widened as she saw another guerrilla beyond him, raising his AKS-74U. She whipped up her left arm and fired a shot. The man dropped his weapon and fell to the ground.

Her breath hissed through gritted teeth as she pulled herself up to one knee, her left arm out in front of her, her right hanging at her side. Already, she could hear the gunfire along the road slowly stopping, fewer weapons being fired as the surviving Galza guerrillas turned in retreat. The rustling of the bushes was drowned out by the receding gunfire.

After a few moments, the gunfire stopped altogether. Madlax let out a sigh, dropped her left P210 on the ground and pressed on her stinging, bleeding right forearm with her left palm.

"Clear!" one of the mercenaries yelled nearby.

"Clear!" came a reply, a bit farther away.

"Clear!" the other Gazth-Sonikan mercenary called out.

"Clear here," the Brit shouted a few metres away. He turned to Madlax, who was still gripping her right forearm. She looked up at him.

His eyes met hers for a fraction of a second, then his eyes shifted lower – probably at her arm. She looked down at it; her blood stained her fingers.

"Hang on," he said, kneeling and unlimbering his backpack as he set his weapon on the ground. "Let me get that."

"Shit!" someone yelled. "Nick's down!"

"Hang on, I'm coming," one of the other mercenaries replied.

Madlax looked up at the British mercenary. "I'm fine," she said, gritting her teeth. She turned to the prospector on the ground and tilted her head in his direction. "Check on him."

"I'm ok," he called out hesitantly, sitting up. He was breathing fast, his shirt was drenched in sweat from the heat and nervousness and fear from the skirmish, his face was pale, and his eyes were still widened in fear and panic, but he was unhurt.

"_He's_ not hurt," the Brit pointed out. _"You_ are." He withdrew a first aid kit and opened it. He pulled out a pad of gauze and removed Madlax's left hand from her injured right forearm.

He then applied the gauze to the bleeding scrape on her arm. Over the gauze he tied a length of cloth bandage, tying the knot over the gauze pad.

* * *

Of the ten-strong foreign mercenary team, none were fatally injured, but three had sustained gunshot wounds to limbs, and one of those three had been shot in the shoulder. The other Gazth-Sonikan mercenary had been shot in the leg. A prospector was helping him limp back to an SUV.

One of the uninjured mercenaries checked the fallen Galza guerrillas. He counted twelve bodies. "Want me to secure their weapons?" he called out.

"No, just get back here and help Nick," came the reply. The man jogged back to the convoy.

Another mercenary ran along each SUV, checking on the prospectors. Each SUV had sustained gunfire; of the five, the windows were shot out of four. Most of the prospectors had stayed in the vehicles and only sustained cuts from flying glass. Two had fled the vehicles during the confusion. One was the man sitting in the dirt path. The other had taken a bullet to the shoulder and leg, and was being treated on the dirt path by another mercenary.

"That's it," one of the mercenaries declared, closing the door after helping a wounded man into one of the SUVs. "Fuck this. We're headed back."

The expedition leader, who had left his vehicle, didn't argue. He knew better. He nodded in agreement.

* * *

Madlax winced as the knot was tied. "Thank you." She turned and picked up one of her fallen P210s with her right hand.

The British mercenary nodded. "You're welcome."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

Admiral Hargreaves looked up as James Bond entered his office. He nodded. "Double-oh-seven."

"M." Bond nodded as he closed the door behind him. He walked over to the desk and sat down opposite him in one of the leather chairs.

M didn't waste time with small talk. He passed Bond a sealed manila folder, stamped Classified. "What do you know about Enfant, Double-oh-seven?"

"A Gazth-Sonika-based criminal organisation." Bond paused as he took the folder, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "They deal in extortion and arms sales, with suspected links to drug dealers in south-east Asia. They also supposedly place a heavy emphasis on cybercrime; they're believed to be responsible for illegal wiretapping, keylogging, redirection and communications interception.

"They're believed to be funded by sales of arms and drugs throughout Europe and Asia, supplemented by transferring money from online bank accounts. Their clients tend to be rather unscrupulous characters: terrorist groups, anti-government insurgencies, but they're even rumoured to be supplying arms to legitimate governments through business fronts."

M nodded. "Two days ago, a British agent in Gazth-Sonika was murdered outside his hotel. It would be easy to believe he was simply killed in a botched mugging, which is the assumption the local police are working under. His wallet, passport and mobile telephone are missing; he was identified by hotel staff. However, he was killed while on mission. He was investigating Enfant." M gestured at the manila folder in his hands.

Bond broke the seal and opened the folder. He looked at the first file that was contained within and its associated photographs. They showed a man slumped on pavement, a small pool of blood around him.

He briefly skimmed over the file the photographs had come with. He recognised the man; although he wasn't a double-oh, he was a very competent agent. "Michael Anders?" Bond looked up at M. "Why was he investigating Enfant?"

"Over the past two months, several government departments detected attempts to hack into secured servers. All thwarted, of course. Every attempted hack was traced back to Gazth-Sonika."

As M spoke, Bond looked back down at the file. "And you're sure it's Enfant and not some other hacker, a freelancer or someone working for another organisation who happens to be in Gazth-Sonika?" he asked, looking back up at M.

"The hacks were traced to a David Chong, a computer programmer believed to be in Enfant's employ. His file is in that folder."

Bond flipped through the printouts, eventually coming to a file on an Asian man in his early thirties. Born in Hong Kong, he moved with his family to Gazth-Sonika when he was six. He had been charged with hacking Gazth-Sonikan government servers on two occasions. Currently, he was employed as a desk clerk at a computer hardware store.

"He lives in the capital. Anders was investigating him and his associates when he was murdered."

Bond looked up from the file at M. "You want to know who killed Anders."

M nodded. "That's correct. Follow up on his leads on Enfant if you can. His assignment is now yours; you are expected to investigate both concurrently. We still want to know who in Enfant was attempting to hack government servers and why exactly, and we have people going over Chong's computer records to determine the nature of his links to Enfant.

"Pack your bags, Double-oh-seven. You leave for Gazth-Sonika first thing tomorrow morning. Miss Moneypenny has your travel arrangements."

* * *

From the author: I'm writing with Timothy Dalton's portrayal of James Bond and Robert Brown's M in mind.

I named M 'Admiral Hargreaves' as opposed to 'Miles Messervy', as it has been suggested that Brown's character (Hargreaves) as seen in _The Spy Who Loved Me _may have become the new M following the death of Bernard Lee (Messervy) in 1981, as opposed to the same actor playing different characters (i.e., Robert Brown playing Miles Messervy).


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

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Day 2

* * *

Being a former territorial possession of Nafrece, the languages spoken in the capital and in large cities and towns were, in addition to the local language, English and French, and the unit of currency, the yur, was based on the Nafrecian yur.

The majority of the people of Gazth-Sonika were south Asian. There were small expatriate communities of people from other nations in the larger towns and cities, including Nafrecians, but they were essentially minorities.

As was expected, the majority of Gazth-Sonika's 25 million inhabitants lived in major urban areas, with small communities in towns and villages in the jungle.

* * *

The British embassy in Gazth-Sonika was a large, two-story brick building with a terracotta tile roof, the walls painted white to reflect the heat from the sun. It occupied a plot of land in the capital, surrounded by small, manicured lawns, in a district reserved for embassies that was a short distance from the Gazth-Sonikan Parliament. Large windows marked its surface at regular intervals, indicating individual rooms inside, or punctuating the walls along hallways. A Union Jack flew from a roof-mounted flagpole. The main entrance was a large wooden double door.

Clad in an off-white jacket and trouser set, Bond entered the British embassy's main foyer. He presented himself to the receptionist, who motioned for him to wait on one of the nearby leather sofas. As he walked over to take a seat, she picked up the telephone and dialled an extension.

Like the exterior, the interior was painted white. A pair of hallways branched off from either side of the foyer, leading to offices and temporary accommodations. Opposite the main entrance was a staircase.

Seating himself on the sofa, Bond idly flipped through a copy of today's issue of the local newspaper that someone had left on the nearby coffee table. On the front page was a story about an expedition that was ambushed in the jungle to the north.

He didn't wait long.

"Mister Bond?"

Bond looked up. Standing nearby was a Caucasian man in a dark grey suit in his late forties. His hair was light brown, with grey on his temples. He was slightly tanned, with wrinkles starting to show around his eyes.

Bond nodded. "Yes."

"William Matthews. Welcome to Gazth-Sonika."

Bond nodded. He set the newspaper down on the couch, stood up, and shook Matthews' hand. "Thank you."

Officially, Matthews was a desk clerk taking visa enquiries for the embassy and forwarding them to the appropriate authorities, which, in reality, he spent little time doing. Unofficially, he was an SIS officer assigned to Gazth-Sonika, head of station, in fact, and, today, first point of contact for Bond.

"If you could please follow me to my office..." Matthews turned and started walking deeper into the foyer, eventually coming to the staircase. Bond followed as Matthews walked up to the second floor.

* * *

The two men eventually came to a door running along the hallway on the second floor of the embassy. Matthews opened the wooden door and gestured for Bond to enter.

Matthews' small office was and sparsely furnished, the walls and ceiling painted a heat-reflective white, like the rest of the building. The only decoration on the walls was a print of a photograph of the Thames, a framed diploma from the University of London, and a large map of Gazth-Sonika secured with thumbtacks. A filing cabinet occupied one corner, a printer perched on top. A ceiling-mounted fan whirred, accompanied by a fan on a metre-high stand set on the floor.

The desk was at a right angle to the window, and situated such that the window would be to Matthews' left when he sat down. The desk itself had a computer, a Rolodex, a telephone, a lamp, several printed documents, and several framed photographs, propped up with flip-out stands on the frames.

"Please, take a seat." Bond entered the office and sat down in one of the two leather chairs opposite the desk.

"I was told you were here concerning Michael Anders' murder," Matthews said, easing himself into his chair. "What can I do for you, Mister Bond?"

"We'll get to him in a moment. First, I want to know what the situation on the ground is in regard to the war."

"Ok..." Matthews thought for a second. "In terms of individual engagements, it's a draw. Sometimes the army wins, sometimes Galza wins. As a result, it's a bit tough to see how things will turn out in the long run.

"The war goes through periods of hot and cold. The fighting will die down after a period of intense fighting, then someone on either side will do something and it flares up again."

"I see."

"We're safe here, if that's what you're worried about. The major cities and the immediate surrounds are secured by the Elite Guard, the army's royal guard unit. There was also a treaty signed to prevent fighting in heavily populated areas, to minimise civilian casualties. All the fighting is out there, in the jungle."

"Good to know. Now, to Anders. We have reason to believe he was killed by Enfant."

Matthews nodded. "That's right."

"What can you tell me about them?"

Matthews leaned back in his chair slightly. "Hmmm... Enfant... where to start?"

Matthews leaned forward. "Well, Enfant are supposed to be everywhere in this country. Fact is, we're not exactly sure how many people Enfant has in their employ, or where exactly they can be found. They're surprisingly good at keeping their tracks hidden.

"They've got enough pull with the government to have troops despatched at their whim. Or so the rumours say. Supposedly, some of the senior officers in the Kingdom Army are Enfant–affiliated. Hell, rumour has it Enfant have even been supplying weapons to both the Kingdom Army _and_ the Galza antigovernment force.

"Actually... there were several squads despatched with armour and air support from an Army aviation squadron a couple months ago. There have been rumours that these are actually government troops operating on orders from Enfant. Of course, it could've just been a new offensive against the Galza separatists."

_Several army units moved on Enfant's order..._ "Any idea why they were really out there?" Bond asked.

"We've managed to intercept comm. chatter. Seems like they were looking for someone."

"Who were they looking for?"

Matthews typed on his keyboard, moving the mouse and clicking on several occasions. He eventually brought up a Gazth-Sonikan news website, turning the monitor so Bond could see it.

The images on the news site were mug shots of a pair of women. One was a brunette with green eyes. The other was blonde, with bluish eyes.

"These two. Vanessa Rene, Nafrecian national, and Madlax, local mercenary."

"Why?"

"Wanted in connection with the murder of a member of the royal family a few months ago. Jaham Korslan, the king's cousin. Trumped-up charges, if you ask me: Rene worked for the head office of the Bookwald Corporation in Nafrece, recently transferred to the Gazth-Sonikan office. From what I've been able to find out, she had a clean criminal record. No trouble at school or at university. No involvement with any political groups, though her father was a Nafrecian diplomat working in Gazth-Sonika, convicted of inciting the war – also a trumped-up charge, I might add. Rene herself: nothing. Hadn't so much as set foot in a gun store, let alone shot anybody."

_So, she may have had her own reasons for coming to Gazth-Sonika._ "Do you think her arrival in Gazth-Sonika was personally motivated?"

Matthews shrugged. "Wouldn't rule it out. She was auditing their shipping and distribution arms. A couple days later, she was documented as having been permanently transferred to the Gazth-Sonikan office. She went missing after that."

"Right. And this other girl?" Bond gestured at the monitor.

"Madlax? A local freelance mercenary. Gazth-Sonika's full of them – mercenaries who do escort, security, assassinations. This one is rumoured to be one of the best in the country. Suppose I wouldn't put it past her, if she was paid, but she supposedly works alone; Rene's involvement makes this one suspect. Unless, of course, she was being dragged along by Madlax."

"Why is that?"

"Who knows? Maybe Rene was kidnapped. Maybe Madlax was hired by Rene for whatever reason and later took on the job, and Rene became a suspect by virtue of being associated with Madlax recently."

"So, what happened to them?"

"Rene's body was eventually recovered in the jungle by an army patrol. She was killed by a gunshot wound to the abdomen. She was taken back to Nafrece for burial by a Margaret Burton, Nafrecian national who was in the country looking for her at the time. Burton claimed to have been kidnapped by Galza and was taken into the jungle. She said that's how she came across Rene.

"As for Madlax... unknown. Everyone sent after them turned up dead. Even the Cobras flying air support were taken down.

"Here's something weird, though: a large number of the bodies were killed by small-arms fire; pistol rounds. No more than two shots in these cases. Nine millimetre. Analysis of the rifling from the bullets is still pending."

"Where were these operations?"

Matthews pulled one of the drawers in his desk open and withdrew a black laser pointer. He turned and inscribed a circle on the map on the wall with the red dot that issued forth when he pressed the button. "Several groups of corpses. All within a twenty-kilometre radius.

"This province is called Kalistale. Some of the most intense fighting in the country takes place here, so troop movements in this area aren't unusual, I suppose."

"And the women? What were they doing out there?"

Matthews shrugged. "Unknown. No trace of Madlax, either. It's like she just disappeared. Somebody else turned up, though. In the same area, a body was found near an old church that was burnt to the ground. A girl in a maid's uniform, of all things. Late teens, maybe early twenties."

Bond frowned. "A church?"

"Yeah, an old church in the middle of nowhere. Burned to the ground. This was no ordinary church, mind you: inside the church were about a dozen or so bodies, mostly government soldiers, plus one other guy who coroners weren't able to ID. Also, the remains of several powerful computers and communications equipment. Nothing was recovered from the hard drives."

"So, someone was using a church to house some sort of communications centre."

"That's right."

"So, what happened to the girl?" Bond asked.

"The girl near the church? One Elenore Baker, Nafrecian national. Personal assistant to Burton. She was taken back to Nafrece for burial. She, too, was kidnapped by Galza. Killed trying to escape.

"The government wanted to put a lid on it. Nobody wants to hear about an innocent foreigner killed in a hot zone. Officially, she was shot in a botched mugging."

They were getting off-topic, Bond thought. He needed to know about Anders. "That can wait. What about Anders?"

"Right... He'd been following Chong for the past two days, trying to work out a schedule, any contacts he has. He didn't want to grab and interrogate him just yet."

"Did he have any contacts?"

"Chong?"

"Yes."

"No. Not in person, anyway."

"Online?"

"Encrypted communications. Traced to locations all over the country. Other suburbs, other towns, even locations in the jungle."

Bond nodded. "Where can I learn more about Enfant?"

"Well, there are a few people on the street who might be able to help you out in that regard." Matthews turned his monitor back around to face him. He then typed on his keyboard and moved his mouse about, clicking on several occasions. A new window appeared. "Any one of these guys should be able to set you up with the information you need. These guys are freelancers – people with connections, mercenaries, or handlers for mercenaries."

Matthews tapped one image on the screen. "I recommend this guy. I'll tell you where you can find him."

* * *

From the author: A recent addition was listing the day on-mission for every chapter that starts on a new day. This is to make the passage of time clearer. This was added when I posted chapters 11 and 12.

Day 1 was Bond arriving in Gazth-Sonika, but the fact that Gazth-Sonika is 'ahead' of the U.K. (it's located in south Asia) and the time spent in flight means that Bond arrived in Gazth-Sonika late on day 1, so he just went straight to his hotel for the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

Bond stood outside the shop, looking in. It seemed like a typical gods material shop selling Chinese and other east Asian goods. On display in the window were a series of statuettes on a shelf, made of bronze or porcelain, and a series of painted urns below. More merchandise was visible inside.

According to Matthews, one of the best sources of information on Gazth-Sonika as viewed 'on the street' was here. If something was going down, chances were this man knew about it. And apparently, this man's information about Gazth-Sonika at 'street level' included information on the organisation and goings-on of Enfant. If Enfant _was_ responsible for Anders' death, this would be as good a place as any to start investigating.

Bond opened the door and walked in. Once inside, he casually surveyed the shop for a few seconds, walking around and looking at the displays of merchandise. Smaller items were displayed on shelves, while larger ones sat on the floor. Several sets of wooden Chinese screens were propped against the walls.

"Can I help you, sir?" the man behind the counter asked. He was a slim, almost gaunt-looking Asian in his late fifties with grey hair, wearing a rimless hat and a pair of small spectacles. He wore a green robe with gold trim; due to the height of the counter, Bond couldn't see him from the chest down.

The counter itself was a carved wooden desk that shielded the man's lower torso and legs from view. On the desk were two lucky cats, the sort with one beckoning paw upheld, a laptop, a small chest and a notebook. An opened red parasol was nearby.

"Yes," Bond replied, looking up from a small bronze figurine on a shelf and walking over to the counter. "I'm after some information."

The man raised an eyebrow. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No."

"Right..." The man leaned forward. "So, what sort of information are you after?"

Bond leaned on the counter. "Information about a man who was killed a few days ago."

"Who would that be?"

Bond withdrew a picture of Anders from inside his jacket, setting it on the counter. "This man."

"Oh, him." The man looked at the photo. "Yes... the English man killed outside a hotel."

"I've heard there was a connection between this man and Enfant."

The man looked up at him. "Enfant, eh? What makes you say that?"

"I'm a reporter, doing a story on this man's murder. There's a rumour going around that Enfant is responsible."

"I see. What would you like to know?"

"Everything you know about Enfant."

"Hmm... where to start?" The man leaned back into his chair, looking up at the ceiling. He didn't say anything for several seconds, continuing to look up at the ceiling. After a few more seconds, he looked over at a shelf.

Bond saw the man was wavering, unsure as to whether or not to tell him what he wanted to know. Of course, it could just be an act. Perhaps he expected Bond to pay him for his information...

Bond drew his wallet, opened it, and pulled out a hundred-yur note, holding it in the air in front of him before setting it on the counter. The man looked at him and arched an eyebrow again.

Bond withdrew a second note.

Nothing. The man continued to look at him from half-lidded eyes.

A third note.

Nothing.

A fourth note.

The man smiled. "Now, we can talk."

Bond nodded, giving a tight-lipped smile. "I'd like to think of this as an investment. Investing in... good sources for my story."

"Believe me, sir, you will not regret _this_ investment." The man smiled as he leaned forward, picked up the money and pocketed it.

"So, what can you tell me about Enfant?" Bond asked.

The man pulled himself to his feet and walked out from behind the counter. He walked over to the door, and flipped the 'Come In, We're Open' sign around so that it now displayed the legend 'Out To Lunch'. He spoke as he walked over to the door.

"Well, they're a group of criminals, based in this country. Their main business is extortion and maybe some arms dealings on the side. Maybe some computer crime as well. They have some pull with the government army; rumour has it that some despatches are, in fact, ordered by Enfant."

He walked back to the counter. "The agents on the ground who do the dirty work are hired guns. Mercenaries, really; hardly anyone has seen their leader. And on that note, in fact, their situation is quite interesting right now."

"How so?"

He leaned forward, leaning on the counter. "Well, it's my understanding that their leader is, in fact, dead."

"How?"

"Killed at his headquarters in the jungle. The whole place was burned to the ground."

_The church in the middle of nowhere. _"So... does that mean that Enfant is now experiencing a power vacuum?" Bond asked.

"Oh, there was something like that. A silent battle for control a couple months ago, although one man has supposedly managed to exert enough influence to take control. A senior figure within Enfant."

"Who might that be?"

"No idea. It is true that their leader was killed, which created a power vacuum within Enfant, but anything beyond that is a rumour."

"I see." Bond paused. "Anything you can tell me about Enfant and computer crime?"

"Enfant, or at least, its former leader, believes that knowledge is power. They're interested in gaining information for blackmail or extortion. One of the ways they fund themselves is through illicit transfers from online bank accounts."

"So, it would stand to reason that Enfant would try to hack into a government server?"

"I wouldn't put it past them. Sounds like something they'd try." The man paused. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason: just curious. It's a rumour I've heard, that Enfant are targeting governments."

"I see."

"Hmm..." Bond decided to try asking about Chong; maybe this man knew something about him, too.

He dug in a pocket and drew a photo of David Chong. "Do you know this man?" he asked, setting it down on the counter.

The man peered at it. "No. Who is he?"

"Someone who may be able to help with my story. He _may_ have had contact with Anders before he was murdered." Bond looked down at the photo, then back up at the man. "You haven't seen him before?"

The man shook his head. "No."

Bond put the photo away, picking up the photo of Anders as well and pocketing it. "Thank you for your time." Bond removed himself from the counter and turned to leave.

"A word of advice, sir?"

Bond turned around. "Yes?"

"If you want to investigate Enfant, I suggest you hire a bodyguard. I know someone who can help you out in that regard."

* * *

From the author: This man is meant to be the same man who supplied Madlax with information on the street before and during her various assignments. He can be seen in episodes 3, 5 and 12 of _Madlax,_ and may be the man in the shop in episode 14.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

Bond had been staying at the Republic Hotel, one of four five-star hotels in Gazth-Sonika. The Republic was selected for its convenience; it was a ten-minute drive from the airport.

Bond's suite on the seventh floor offered a good view of the city, with its large windows opening onto a balcony. The room was, as befitting a five-star hotel, very well appointed: a single queen-sized bed, leather furnishings, a forty-inch LCD television with a Blu-Ray player and satellite reception that pulled in channels from the United States, not that Bond had so far watched anything besides the local news. (He had, however, helped himself to the selection of alcoholic drinks in the small refrigerator, and made visits to the hotel bar.) The bathroom was tiled, with chromed fittings and a spa bath.

Wireless internet was also available; Bond used it to communicate to Matthews and SIS HQ in London via encrypted web pages and emails.

With the availability of room service, Bond had the option of taking meals either in his room or at the restaurant on the ground floor. The food was good; not the best Bond had ever had, but still of good quality. There was sufficient diversity in the menu to minimise the chance of eating the same dish twice in any given week. The local dishes were interesting, with detectable influences from south-east Asia and India.

* * *

Sitting on the bed, Bond turned on the television in his hotel room. He channel-surfed until he found the local news.

"Four men taken into custody on suspicion of being responsible for the murder of Jaham Korslan, cousin to king Korslan, have been formally charged with his murder. According to police, the men were filmed leaving Korslan's residence on the night of the murder by a passer-by on his cell phone." Footage of four men being herded into an armoured police van was shown as the anchor spoke.

The screen shifted to grainy footage of three men leaving a large house, apparently filmed from across the street. One of them was carrying a large case with a handle. The men hurriedly entered a black sedan parked nearby, which sped off as soon as all three men were inside.

The anchor's voice then said, "The men, who were arrested two weeks ago, were found to be in possession of a rifle which shot the same kind of bullets as those used to shoot Korslan."

As the broadcast continued, Bond leaned back, idly wondering what this meant for that mercenary out there, the one who had been charged. Matthews had suspected that the mercenary had been falsely charged to attract attention to her...

When the news broadcast was over, Bond walked over to the miniature bar fridge. Atop the fridge was a small assortment of alcoholic beverages in miniature bottles. He selected a small bottle of whisky and emptied its contents into a glass. Bond then proceeded to the couch, sat down, and started to drink the liquor.

When he was done, he set his glass on the coffee table, drew his mobile telephone from his pocket and dialled Matthews' number. Bond needed to verify some information before proceeding.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

Day 4

* * *

Bond turned away from studying the assortment of alcoholic drinks behind the bar as he heard someone approaching. There were several patrons tonight, but the bar was far from full; it was Wednesday night, and there were many empty places at the bar. Someone wanting to sit at the bar wouldn't have to come right by him.

Bond turned his head slightly; using his peripheral vision, he saw a man in a suit approaching to his right. Bond then glanced down to read the time on his black Rolex Submariner; it was about the right time for his contact to appear. These two facts led him to conclude that his contact was approaching.

He had had Matthews check the man's contact details first. He confirmed that the man was a handler for a mercenary agent. While he didn't need a mercenary bodyguard, he could use a guide for a couple of days – it would free up Matthews and his people to follow up on leads instead of showing him around. The city was a veritable maze; Bond had the ability to quickly learn his way around a city as he needed, even one he'd never been to before, but this city was trying his patience.

Apparently, the man also had quite a few connections himself: Bond hoped he may know a thing or two about Enfant, something the man at the gods material shop didn't know, giving Bond another reason to contact him.

Bond made the call, claiming to be a private investigator from England looking for two things: information concerning a murder, and a local guide. As well as being the handler for a mercenary agent, the man claimed to be well-informed himself, and offered to answer questions Bond may have, as well as arrange for the agent to meet Bond at the hotel he would be staying at.

The man preferred to keep his dealings impersonal, through either telephone or Internet transactions, but Bond insisted on meeting him in person. He had balked at first, but apparently he knew better than to turn down a potential transaction, so he begrudgingly agreed.

His conditions were that he would set the time and place. Bond agreed.

And that was how Bond found himself sitting at the bar in a local pub, two days after meeting the man at the gods material shop.

* * *

A man walked up to the bar, approaching Bond. He matched the mug shot Matthews provided. Caucasian, brown hair, long face with angular features, slender build, appearing to be in his mid to late forties. The man wore what he said he'd be wearing: a grey-brown suit with a white shirt and a burgundy tie.

Bond nodded to him.

The man stopped and studied him for a second. "I see you made it," he finally said in an American accent. "Welcome to Gazth-Sonika, Mister...?"

"Bond. James Bond."

"Right. Mister Bond. The P.I. from England, right?"

Bond nodded. "Thank you for coming."

The man sat at the stool next to him. "I'm Three Speed." He extended a hand.

Bond shook the man's hand, an eyebrow raised. According to information Matthews had provided, the man listed his name as 'SSS', but when speaking, called himself 'Three Speed', which was what he had referred to himself as when Bond had called him. "Where'd you get that name?"

"I came into possession of an old Mustang once. Nineteen-sixty-eight coupe, three-oh-two cubic inch V8. Lovely car, but it needed restoration; it was barely driveable.

"The guy at the shop I took it to suggested I replace the car's transmission as a matter of convenience and reliability – apparently the existing transmission wasn't in good shape. He suggested that I have a new five-speed gearbox installed. I insisted on rebuilding the old three-speed that the car came with, or replacing it with another one if he had to. Had to really hammer it home, 'cos he really wanted me to put in that five-speed. He obliged – I ended up getting another three-speed gearbox – but to rub it in, he started calling me 'Three Speed'. So, I decided to adopt it as my 'official' pseudonym."

Bond nodded. "Interesting."

The bartender walked over to them to take orders. Bond ordered a scotch on the rocks. SSS ordered a Rob Roy.

Turning to Bond, SSS simply said, "You're paying."

"Of course." Bond nodded, smiling thinly. He should have expected something like this.

He produced a fifty-yur note, which the bartender took to the register.

"Thank you." SSS smiled graciously as the bartender returned with Bond's change. He left again, walking the short distance to prepare their drinks. "So, what can I do for you, Mister Bond?"

"First, I'd like some information." Bond pulled a picture of Anders from his shirt's breast pocket, putting it on the bar in front of SSS. "What can you tell me about this man?"

SSS looked at the picture. "That guy? He was on the news about, oh, five, six days ago. Killed in a mugging outside his hotel. Or something."

"I'm told Enfant had a hand in his murder." Bond pocketed the photo.

The bartender returned with their drinks. Bond and SSS nodded their thanks as the drinks were set down on the bar in front of them. Bond proceeded to drink the scotch.

"Enfant? Could be; wouldn't put it past them, though they seem to be above petty muggings. You should know, though, if you go sniffing around Enfant's turf, you're asking for trouble. Good thing you called me; I know someone who can help you out in that regard."

"I can take care of myself," Bond assured him.

"Right." SSS sipped at his cocktail. "Let me know if you change your mind."

"Of course." Bond nodded. "So, what else can you tell me about Enfant?"

"Hmm..." SSS rocked back and forth slightly, exhaling loudly. "Large criminal network," he finally said. "Based right here, in Gazth-Sonika. Got agents who pop up on a moment's notice. Men in black.

"They deal in espionage and extortion, amongst other illegal activities. Their biggest focus, however, is cybercrime. Keylogging, redirecting websites, phishing, identity theft... all sorts of stuff."

"Where do they operate out of?"

"All over the place. Rumour has it that there's one or two communications hubs somewhere in this country, in the jungle. Big, powerful computers, big communications arrays."

"Speaking of which," Bond said, "there's a rumour going around that Enfant have started to target governments. Hacking into government servers. Do you know anything about that?"

"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if they did try. Sounds like something they'd do, alright. But then again, a lot of what people know about Enfant is rumour and speculation. Some of it's true, some, not."

SSS drank from his glass again. "Speaking of which, you know, there's a rumour going around that their head is dead. Killed in an explosion or a house fire... or something."

"How long ago was that?"

"Oh... about a month or so. Couple months."

Nothing he hadn't heard already. "So, who's in charge of Enfant now?"

"Anyone's guess. There's supposed to be someone laying down the law in Enfant right now, but who that someone is exactly is beyond me."

Bond decided to ask what he knew about Chong. He withdrew a photo of Chong from his breast pocket, laying it next to his glass.

"Do you know anything about him?" Bond tapped at the photo with his forefinger.

SSS peered at the photo. "That guy, I've seen around once or twice. David Chong. Computer guy; works at a local computer store here in the city. Apparently, he works for Enfant, hacking systems all over the world."

SSS turned to face Bond. "Is he important?"

"Possibly. There may be a connection between him and the man killed outside the hotel." Bond took the photo and pocketed it.

"You're interested in an Enfant computer programmer? Quite a case you're working on, Mister Bond. A murdered British national, a computer programmer, a criminal organisation hacking into government servers... Sounds like the sort of thing you'd find in a crime novel or a movie."

"That's an interesting way of putting it." Bond finished his drink. He looked down at the glass, observing the slowly melting ice for a second. "So... where is Enfant located?" he asked, before looking up at SSS.

"They have people all over this country. No single base of operations; they've supposedly got safehouses in towns and cities, and little bases in the jungle. But they can be found... if you know where to look." SSS sipped at his drink.

"Well, I'll be looking."

"Really? Believe me, I know Enfant; you'd be asking for trouble by looking into them. Sounds to me like you'll need a bodyguard and guide. I've got an agent who can do both."

"Yes, you mentioned that on the phone. I'm interested in hiring a guide. Is he good?"

"Believe me, Mister Bond, she's the best in Gazth-Sonika."

Bond raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

SSS nodded. "That's right. Hand-to-hand combat, melee weapons, marksmanship – she can do it, and do it well."

Bond gave a faint smile. "Sounds tempting, but believe me, I don't need a bodyguard. I just need a guide."

"You can consider the bodyguard duty as a bonus. It's what she does."

"I can take care of myself."

SSS grinned. "Good for you," he said in a rather condescending manner.

Bond paused. He didn't need a bodyguard, but he still needed a guide, and it would be wise to keep this man talking. He exhaled loudly. "Alright. Keep talking."

SSS finished his Rob Roy, setting the glass on the bar. "Good. Here's how it works: you make the payment, the agent comes to meet you in your hotel room the day after. She'll stay with you as long as you like, show you around as needed, take point in public, keep an eye out for suspicious activity. Stuff like that."

SSS paused, ostensibly to let what he had just said sink in. After a few seconds, he said, "If anyone gives you any trouble, she'll take care of it. Like I said, she's had hand-to-hand combat training and she's a crack shot." SSS grinned.

Bond paused before replying, considering his response. This was precisely what he _didn't_ want – someone staying with him in his hotel room. "I don't need a bodyguard to keep constant watch on me. I just need a guide for a few days. She can meet me outside my hotel every morning, take me around the city – "

"My agent can do that for you. While she watches you."

" – and I can drop her off at night at a location of her choosing."

"This isn't a tour guide you're hiring, Mister Bond."

"No. I don't want someone staying with me in my hotel room."

"This is the service you're paying for."

Bond was starting to get annoyed. His voice hardened slightly as he spoke. "I don't think you understand what I'm saying. I don't like the idea of having someone staying in my hotel room. Yes, I need a local guide. But I don't need a bodyguard to stay with me twenty-four-seven. I have hand-to-hand combat training. I don't need someone in my hotel room to protect me."

"I'm telling, you, Mister Bond, this is how it's done. I don't run a tourism service, and you're not just 'seeing the sights' in this fair country."

Bond had no reply. He had tried to press his point, but SSS was having none of it. Of course, he couldn't tell the man the truth – that he was a double-oh agent of the British Secret Intelligence Service, who was proficient in close-quarter armed and unarmed combat (he had even received training in ninjutsu while on a mission) and was an accomplished marksman.

"Hey," SSS said. "You're convinced Enfant killed that guy, right? That goes to show how dangerous they are. If they find out you're investigating them... you'll be sorry.

"Trust me, Mister Bond, you'll want the agent with you as often and as long as possible."

Bond looked the other man in the eyes. He knew that Enfant was responsible for or a prime suspect behind several murders in Europe and Asia, so he didn't doubt for a second what SSS said about the danger Enfant represented.

If push came to shove, he was more than able to defend himself. In that instance, he conceded that having an extra pair of eyes wouldn't hurt, so having a guide with combat training was definitely a bonus.

But he didn't want the guide to get too deeply involved, combat training or not. She was only meant to show him around, and when it came to taking action, such as entering a building, he would either proceed alone and come back for her, or he would simply leave, knowing the location, and go back once he no longer needed the guide's services and she was on her way. Operating alone would be impossible if the guide insisted on staying with him as a round-the-clock bodyguard: she'd simply get in the way.

Nor did he want what was essentially a stranger off the street in his hotel room. A stranger who was a mercenary, who would be trained in combat and possibly armed. He didn't like the idea of sleeping in the same room as such a person.

Bond also considered SSS himself. The man was a valuable source of information on Enfant – it was conceivable that he knew more than he was letting on, in which case, Bond may be back for more if he had questions. Would he take offense if Bond didn't hire his agent, and not be forthcoming if Bond came back to him needing more information? He needed as many information sources open as possible, and he would deal with the mercenary agent if he had to.

A final thing to consider, that Bond hadn't considered before, was the possibility of Bond having to operate outside major urban areas. It was rumoured that Enfant had facilities in the jungle, so it was entirely possible he would have to leave urban areas and go to the jungle. And he would have to bring the guide with him, so he may end up with the guide 'constantly' accompanying him in that case.

Even though he would enter such a facility alone and have the guide wait nearby or meet him later elsewhere, a combat-trained guide would be a plus in dealing with patrols or security forces sent to intercept them as they approached. If they were trustworthy, they could even act as a lookout as Bond entered the facility.

After a few seconds of silence, Bond nodded. "Alright."

"Excellent." SSS smiled. "We'll just go through your payment options right now – "

"Before we go any further, I'd like to know: does your agent have a name?" Bond asked.

"That's up to her. Whether or not she gives you her name, that is. Her policy, not mine."

* * *

From the author: I figured that Bond would want to know where SSS got his name soon after introductions were made. I also recalled that many cars of the '50s and '60s had three-speed automatic or manual transmissions, and since no canon reason was given for the name SSS, I put two and two together.

SSS versus Three Speed: in _Madlax,_ this character's name is pronounced 'Three Speed', but he is subtitled and credited as 'SSS'. I am following this convention such that a character's dialogue will refer to him as 'Three Speed', but the character will be 'externally' referred to as SSS.

Thank you for staying with the story, and for your feedback! Please continue to leave your comments!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

Day 5

* * *

It was the morning of Bond's fifth day in Gazth-Sonika.

Breakfast was done; the maid had taken the used crockery. Bond currently stood by the window, watching the traffic flow along the city's roads. Hearing and feeling it ring, Bond pulled his Sony Ericsson from his pocket, pressing the button that would allow him to take the call. "Hello?"

"Mister Bond? It's Matthews, from the embassy. You have a delivery from London. You should come pick it up."

Bond had been expecting this call. "Where at, the embassy?"

"No, I'll come and pick you up from the hotel. Are you still there?"

"Yes."

"Good. Meet me outside the main entrance in an hour."

* * *

The address Matthews drove Bond to turned out to be a small property in the city, just outside the central business district. It was unremarkable: single storey house, painted concrete walls, tiled roof. Short, chain-link fence bordering the property. A double garage below, Matthews told him, down at the bottom of a ramp to one side. Utterly ordinary.

The property was, in fact, an SIS safehouse, with three permanent rotating staff in addition to Matthews, who spent a few hours here three times a week.

Matthews stopped his silver Ford Focus one house down from it. He and Bond disembarked and walked back to the house. Matthews walked up the path and unlocked and opened the wooden door, swinging it open for Bond.

Bond walked inside. Behind him, Matthews closed and locked the door.

From what Bond could see, the house was sparsely furnished, decorated with only the odd framed print on the wall. The walls and ceiling were painted beige. The doors, doorframes and windowframes were the same lacquered wood. The floor was tiled, the tiles a dark green.

Matthews walked ahead of Bond, showing him into one of the bedrooms. The bedroom was ordinary; beige walls and roof, a large window with vertical blinds, a bunk bed. Both beds were made with white bedclothes. Lining one wall was a mirrored sliding door for a wardrobe that was set into the wall. Unlike the hallways, the bedrooms were carpeted.

Matthews opened the sliding door on the wardrobe. He pressed a concealed switch in a corner, and the interior of the wardrobe slid away, revealing a concrete staircase going down. Bond could see that the staircase was lit by fluorescent bulbs every few metres.

Matthews gestured for Bond to enter.

The staircase led to a large rectangular room, below the garage. The walls, floor and ceiling were all grey concrete. It felt cooler down here, something Bond put down to the underground nature of the room. It was either that, or the air conditioning.

Several figures milled about, working around a central bench. A quartet of computers ran along one wall, a technician seated at one. A four-wheel drive vehicle sat in one corner on a metal and concrete platform.

"Ah, there you are, Double-oh-seven," Major Boothroyd said, looking up from the bench. He pulled himself up from the bench and walked over to the entrance. Clad in a business shirt, tie and beige trousers, he had taken off his suit jacket; it was draped over his chair.

"Morning, Q," Bond said as he entered the room. "Welcome to Gazth-Sonika."

"Thank you, Double-oh-seven. Now that you're here, shall we?" Q gestured to the bench.

"You've got it from here, Q?" Matthews asked.

Q nodded. "Yes, Mister Matthews. Thank you for showing Double-oh-seven down."

"Great. I'd better get back to the embassy, but first..."

Matthews walked over to the row of computers lined against the wall. Bond looked over at him as he walked up to the single technician seated at one of the computers. "How's the tracking coming along?"

"Pretty good, sir," the tech replied. "It's taken a while, but we've successfully backtracked nearly all of the communications going through Chong's computer in the last three weeks. By going through and monitoring the computers believed to be transmitting Enfant-related communiqués to Chong, and in turn, monitoring computers that _those_ computers communicate with, we've found that a lot of Enfant's online communications – not all, but a lot – are going through this point here on their way to wherever they're headed."

The tech brought up a map of Gazth-Sonika on the monitor. He tapped the monitor where a glowing red dot indicated a position in the jungle. "Here. It's acting sort of like a relay station for Enfant communications and data. We've known about this one for some time."

Bond and Q made their way over to the computer. The mission briefing notes in the file had mentioned that a lot of Enfant's data traffic passed through this point, implying some sort of communications hub in the jungle in Gazth-Sonika.

"Very good," Bond said. "Where are the rest of them going?"

"Um... lots of messages are going to locations in cities and towns all over the country. Some via landlines, some to mobiles; must be local operatives. There's also communiqués going to other locations in the jungle – I'm guessing those are either field operatives with mobile communications equipment or small substations that are acting as relay points. We'll have something more substantial in the next few days."

"Great. Keep at it. I'll be in touch." Matthews gave the tech a casual slap on the shoulder and looked up at Bond.

"Later, Mister Bond, Q. Call me if you need anything." Matthews shook their hands, then turned and walked back up the staircase.

Bond nodded and turned from the monitor back to Q, who nodded and walked over to the gleaming, dark green four-wheel drive vehicle Bond saw from the staircase. "With that done, we can carry on, then," Q said, as he walked towards the vehicle. Bond followed Q to the vehicle with his eyes, turning his head. His gaze settled on the car on the concrete and metal platform; he briefly studied the vehicle.

The overall shape was vaguely boxy, with rounded corners and edges. A pair of roof racks ran parallel to each other, running part of the length of the roof. The bodywork appeared slightly swollen where the wheel arches flared out from the body. A black plastic stripe ran through both doors on each side, parallel to the sills. Bond could see three rows of seats through the large windows.

Q continued speaking as he walked. "Now, we know that Enfant has been known to operate in the jungle, so with that in mind, we've prepared this: Land Rover Discovery 4, five litre supercharged V8 engine. All the usual refinements: guided missiles, machine guns, built-in radar, infrared imaging, and a five-thousand volt security system that electrifies the skin of the car."

Bond followed Q past the bench to the vehicle. "Well, that'll come as a shock to anyone trying to steal it."

"Precisely." Q walked over to and opened the front passenger side door. He pulled out a thick operating manual and showed it to Bond, holding it up. "Do take the time to read it, Double-oh-seven."

Bond nodded. "Of course I will, Q." Both men knew that in all likelihood, Bond would simply flick through the manual, as opposed to reading it thoroughly – if Bond read it at all.

* * *

Nearby, a technician aimed an umbrella at a dummy standing against the far wall, holding it in both hands. A pair of iron sights flipped up from the umbrella's handle, and the technician adjusted his grip accordingly, looking down the sights. He aligned the forward sights with the rear sights, lining them up with the dummy's head.

Then he pulled the trigger.

With a loud bang, the metal tip of the umbrella shot forward, accelerating towards the target. Bond and Q turned at the sound of the projectile launching. A tiny rocket motor ignited as the projectile cleared the umbrella. Tiny fins deployed from the body of the projectile.

The projectile slammed into the dummy's face and promptly exploded. The technician undid the strap holding the umbrella closed. He then opened the umbrella, looked briefly at the central shaft, and closed it.

* * *

The smoke from the small explosion took a few seconds to clear; when it did, they saw that while the dummy's head remained attached to the rest of the body, the face had been blown off.

Bond turned from the dummy to Q. "An umbrella that keeps you dry _and_ takes someone's face off. What will you think of next, Q?"

Ignoring him, Q set the manual on the passenger seat, shut the door of the Land Rover and walked back over to the bench. Bond turned on his heel to face Q, walking back to the bench.

Q picked up a pair of binoculars. "Infrared imaging binoculars. These have the ability to record and to upload streaming video to SIS facilities."

"That could be useful."

Setting down the binoculars, Q gestured to a compact Sony digital camera. "Same applies for the digital camera. Ten point one megapixel resolution, three times optical zoom. Infrared imaging up to two hundred metres. Also with upload capability."

Bond raised an eyebrow. "Always good to have backups."

Q held up a silvery ballpoint pen. "This pen contains a WiFi receiver/transmitter. Tip in or out, hold the button down for two seconds to activate or deactivate it." As he spoke, Q held down the button on top of the pen that extended or retracted the writing tip.

Still holding the pen, he held up a black PDA. In addition to the touchscreen, it had a miniature Qwerty keypad. "Use it in conjunction with this to instantly access a local wireless network, although the PDA is also WiFi compatible. The pen transceiver is also compatible with the computer in the Land Rover and with your laptop, should you wish to access the network remotely."

"Never know when that could come in handy."

Q set the pen and PDA down and picked up a black Philips keyfinder. "I take it you remember how to use this?"

Bond had used a similar device before. From what he could see, this one was slightly more compact. He thought for a second before answering. "You mean, whistle to set the ringer off, so I can find my keys?"

Q sighed. "Really, Double-oh-seven."

"_Rule Britannia_ for the tear gas, a wolf whistle for the explosive, right, Q?"

"So you _do_ remember some of what I tell you, Double-oh-seven."

Bond feigned shock. "Of course I do, Q."

Attached to the keyfinder was a small LED flashlight. Q pressed a button on its shaft to turn the device on, then pressed it again to turn it off. "LED flashlight with five high-intensity light-emitting diodes. Useful for finding a lock on a door at night when entering a house." Turning it on again, he then unscrewed the bottom, exposing a series of short, thin implements contained inside. All the while, the LEDs remained lit. "Lockpicks."

"Useful for opening said lock, right, Q?"

Q nodded. "Exactly."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

It was getting late. Bond was considering calling it a day.

So far, information linking Enfant and Anders' murder was inconclusive, limited to vague statements from his sources that Enfant could do such a thing if it or its members were so inclined.

In the two days he spent between meeting the man at the gods material shop and meeting with Three Speed at the bar, he had also questioned several hotel staff and managed to get an audience with a police officer, posing as a reporter on every occasion. They told him the same story that was on the news: three men, two in suit jackets, approaching Anders just outside the hotel, then some sort of discussion or confrontation which led to Anders being chased around the corner, around the side of the hotel building into an alley where his body was found. The fact that Anders had been investigating Enfant was Bond's sole lead right now.

There was one other possibility, Bond thought, as he walked over to the bed. Perhaps it really _was_ just a botched mugging, unrelated to Anders' assignment; that was for the police to find out in the meantime.

For now, Bond would pick up Anders' assignment; he would start surveillance of Chong tomorrow. Maybe someone Chong was associated with would lead him to whoever was pulling the strings within Enfant, or, if they were Enfant-affiliated, to Anders' killers. Matthews had said Chong didn't meet people affiliated with Enfant offline, but there was a possibility he had an offline handler that he met with infrequently. At the very least, Bond wanted a vague grasp of the man's routine before he brought him in for questioning.

Bond pulled off his jacket and placed it on the bed when he heard a knock on the door to his hotel room.

Frowning, Bond turned his head to face the door. His right hand slid down to his torso, gripping his Walther P99. He wasn't expecting anyone; he'd had dinner at the restaurant tonight, so there was no crockery to take away, and the maids came in to clean up and change towels and bathrobes after he checked out in the mornings. Nor had he made calls to room service – or anyone else, for that matter – for anything.

Three Speed's agent, perhaps? It was about the right time for her to appear.

He thought back to their discussion at the bar. Bond only wanted a guide, not a bodyguard, but Three Speed had pressed his case, so he initially agreed and heard the man out.

Apparently, as part of the deal, the agent would stay with the client to ensure their safety. The agent would meet him in his hotel suite and stay with him as he went about, 'taking point', as it were. Bond did not have this in mind; he had only wanted a guide that would meet him outside his hotel and he could drop off somewhere at the end of the day.

Bond voiced his opposition to the idea of having an agent in his hotel room. Three Speed was stubborn: he insisted that "this is how it's done," especially since Enfant was involved. Neither of them was willing to give ground on the issue.

In the end, Bond acquiesced; he may need more information in the near future, and Three Speed may not be forthcoming if he didn't hire his agent. The more information sources he had open to him, the better.

Whoever was at the door knocked again. Bond drew his P99 from his shoulder holster. "Come in."

The doorknob rotated and the door opened. Bond held his pistol at his side, obscuring it from the view of whoever was coming through the door.

The person holding the doorknob let go and started on their way in. He saw that it was a young woman – no, a _girl_ – who walked through the door and entered his hotel room.

Bond's eyes widened slightly in surprise. Narrowing them, he studied her as she entered.

She was blonde, with blue eyes that almost had a lavender hue to them. She had two cowlicks atop a messy fringe, but her untied shoulder-length hair was otherwise reasonably neat. She was about 165 centimetres tall, and, Bond had to admit, very attractive. She had delicate features: large eyes, rounded cheeks without prominent cheekbones, a small nose and thin lips bordering a small mouth.

She wore an olive green flight jacket with a blue and white embroidered circular patch on the left breast. Bond didn't recognise the patch, which bore an embroidered image of Pegasus, the winged horse from ancient Greek mythology; he assumed it belonged to a Gazth-Sonikan Air Force squadron. Beneath the open jacket was a red shirt and black hotpants. A blue single-strap backpack was slung over her left shoulder.

Bond noticed on her shirt a pair of brown leather straps with clip-on buckles that crossed her chest above and below her breasts; they looked like they were part of a harness she was wearing under the jacket.

On her hands were brown fingerless leather gloves. Her jacket's sleeves were bunched up around her upper arms; a bandage was visible, wound around her slender right forearm.

Completing the outfit was a pair of black leather zippered boots that ran up her slender but muscular legs, ending just short of her knees. Each boot had a long pouch running along its length, a single leather flap on top. The pouches looked about the right length to contain flares, flashlights, or combat knives.

Bond turned his body and raised his P99, levelling it at her from his hip, his eyes narrowed. "You're obviously not room service. Who are you?"

The girl stopped a metre from the door, turning her head to face him. "James Bond?" she asked in an American accent. Her voice exuded a sense of youthful innocence, adding to her equally youthful appearance.

Bond nodded. "Yes."

The girl saw his pistol and slowly raised her hands. "I was told you'd be investigating Enfant. I've been assigned to you as your guide and bodyguard."

Bond frowned. "Is this some sort of joke?"

"No. Three Speed sent me. He told me he had a client, a private investigator, who needed a guide and bodyguard because he was investigating Enfant."

"So, what, am I dreaming?" Bond asked sardonically.

"No," the girl replied, shaking her head slightly. "This is reality."

Bond nodded slightly. After a second, he gestured to the door with his free hand. The girl turned and closed it, turning back to face Bond again after she was done.

Bond took two steps towards her, keeping his pistol levelled. "Well, I appreciate having you as a guide, but bodyguard? Aren't you a bit young for this sort of thing?"

"This is what I do for a living, Mister Bond," she replied, keeping her hands raised. "And I'm very good at it. It would be a mistake to underestimate me."

Bond raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

The girl opened her jacket. Bond saw she was wearing a leather dual shoulder holster over her red shirt, partially secured by the leather straps crossing her chest. Nestled below her armpits was a pair of pistols. "I know what I'm doing, believe me," she said.

Bond was unconvinced. "Anyone can put on a holster with a gun in it. You can't be the 'best agent in Gazth-Sonika' Three Speed was referring to."

"Why not?" the girl asked, in her innocent voice, as she released her jacket. "Why can't I be the agent?"

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen. I turn twenty next year." The girl smiled.

"My point stands. No-one your age who carries a gun, or, in your case, two, is a professional."

"Looks can be deceptive, Mister Bond."

Bond sighed. What the hell was Three Speed thinking, sending a girl with a pair of guns to him as a bodyguard? A guide, yes, that was all well and good, but a bodyguard? This was reckless of him, arming a girl barely out of her teens like this and flaunting them as a bodyguard for hire. He was needlessly endangering her life – surely he knew that.

And this was Enfant he'd be investigating, a criminal organisation which, in addition to its own hit men, supposedly had access to the military! She wouldn't last long if they were compromised.

If she was the best Three Speed had, then he had to wonder what sort of two-bit operation he was running. How could he claim that this girl was the 'best agent' in Gazth-Sonika? It was clearly a case of marketing hype, or a sales pitch. Or was every other freelance agent or mercenary in this country dead?

He just hoped Three Speed's intel was better than his agent.

Bond noticed she still had her hands raised. "All right, you can put your hands down." The girl lowered her hands, but Bond kept his weapon pointed at her.

Bond gestured to the girl's right arm with his free hand. "So, what happened to your arm?"

The girl looked down at the bandage. "That was from my last assignment. We were caught in an ambush."

Bond saw no reason to ask for specifics. He remained quiet, only nodding in acknowledgement.

With nothing else to say at that moment, Bond and the girl silently regarded each other. After a few seconds, the girl decided to break the silence. "I've seen people try to take on Enfant. Most of them are dead. Believe me, Mister Bond, you'll need my help."

"I can take care of myself. As for Enfant, can you take me to them, if need be?"

"Sure, if we can find an Enfant agent. They keep their bases well hidden; we'd have to follow or interrogate someone. In the meantime, I'm told you need a guide."

_So, she didn't know about the communications hub in the jungle? _"That's right." Bond nodded. "I normally have a very good sense of direction, but this city is proving... difficult to navigate."

"Yeah, it can be like that sometimes." The girl walked in and sat down on a chair at the dining table. "So... why are you after Enfant?"

"A British national was killed a few days ago. I have reason to believe Enfant was involved."

"Based on what?"

"A rumour that's been going about."

"A rumour?"

"Yes." Bond turned back to the bed and stowed his P99 back in its shoulder holster.

Turning around, he saw the girl looking at him questioningly. She clearly wasn't going to let this one go. He sighed again. "If you must know, he was a reporter, investigating claims Enfant is behind a series of illegal arms deals in Europe. His family sent me to investigate."

This seemed to satisfy the girl; she remained silent, only nodding. Bond turned back around and pulled his shoulder holster off, holding it in both hands.

Realising something, he turned back to face the girl. "I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name."

"I don't normally give my name to my clients," the girl said flatly.

"Very well." Bond nodded and turned to the mirrored wardrobe set into the wall.

Now that he thought about it, the girl seemed somewhat familiar. Bond had seen her before, but where was it?

Bond walked over to the wardrobe to retrieve his sleepwear, but hesitated. "Do you plan on staying the night?" he asked, turning around.

"Not unless you want me to."

He didn't want to just send her away; he still needed a guide, if only for a few days. Besides, if he simply sent her back right now, Three Speed might take offense and withhold information that he needed. But he still didn't like the idea of someone her age running around with two pistols.

Bond gestured to the bed. "You can have the bed, if you want. We set out tomorrow morning."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

Day 6

* * *

Bond was currently seated at the dining table in his hotel room, looking down at his laptop as it powered up. He knew he'd seen the girl before – recently, too, he _knew_ it – but where? Her refusal to give a name only fuelled his curiosity. And he still recalled the conversation between himself and Three Speed at the bar two days ago; he had not given her name, either. How unhelpful.

Bond had decided that today, he would start surveillance on Chong. Both the apartment and the computer store Chong worked at were located in a suburb outside the city's central business district, still somewhat populous, but not to the same degree as the CBD.

The girl indicated that it would be up to a forty-five minute drive away from the hotel, less if traffic was light, which it hopefully would be now that the traffic from the morning peak was dwindling. Bond figured that they would arrive by eleven o'clock or so, at which point he planned to break into and bug Chong's apartment, then stakeout the computer store Chong worked at and follow him when he left the store by planting a homing beacon on his car.

He was dressed and ready to go, with his Walther in its holster and a satchel of gadgets on the floor beside him. But first...

Bond and the girl had taken breakfast in the hotel room that morning, and the maid had long since taken the used crockery away. Today, he had decided to try the buttermilk pancakes. Not the best, but they were filling, and, he supposed, that was what mattered.

Bond told the girl he wanted to type an email report before leaving. The girl was fine with that; she decided to take a shower and get dressed while waiting. So, while the girl was in the shower, Bond decided to search for information about her online. As the laptop finished loading, Bond recalled where he had seen the girl: he had recently seen a picture of her on the Internet. Well, on a computer, at any rate. Recently, too: he was certain it had been since his arrival in Gazth-Sonika.

He loaded the laptop's web browser and connected to the hotel's wireless network. He heard the hiss of the shower starting to run.

He decided to use Gazth-Sonikan news websites first; maybe he saw her in a news article's attached picture while browsing local news websites, as he had made a point of checking online news at least once a day. If nothing came up here, he would try the SIS database. If the girl was finished before he was, he would simply resume the search when they got back.

Then it hit him. He had seen her the day he saw Matthews. On a news website that Matthews had shown him.

Bond looked through various news websites until he found one that looked familiar. It had the same header and menu as the one Matthews had shown him. He then started going through the archive of news pages.

In the background, the hiss of the shower abruptly stopped. Bond looked up in the direction of the bathroom for a second, then looked back down at the computer.

The archived news pages were arranged by date, with a list of stories appearing for every day. Bond gave randomly selected stories a cursory glance. He was pretty sure it was something crime-related, too, so he gave preference to those headlines. He doubted that it was a sports or gossip story, so he didn't bother to look through them. If need be, he would return to them for another look.

He had to go back a couple of months, taking him several minutes as he went through several news articles, before finding what he was looking for.

His eyes widened when he saw the girl's mug shot on the news page he just opened.

The headline for the article was _Suspects named in Korslan murder._

The name in the caption was Madlax.

Madlax.

He recalled what Matthews had told him – Madlax was supposed to be a mercenary agent operating in Gazth-Sonika, who was rumoured to be one of the best agents in the country.

And now, Madlax was in his employ, acting as his guide and bodyguard.

Getting dressed in his hotel suite.

Madlax emerged from around the corner, clad in the same clothes she arrived in the night before, her hair still damp. "Sorry for keeping you waiting. Are you ready to go, Mister Bond?"

Bond turned from the monitor to face her. And stared.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

* * *

Day 7

* * *

The phone rang. SSS sighed, pressed the 'pause' button on his remote control, reached over and picked up his cell phone. Glancing at the screen to determine the caller's identity, he then took the call by pressing the appropriate button, raising the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Three Speed?"

"Madlax? What's up?"

"I'm on assignment. The English guy."

"So, how's it going?" he asked casually.

"We've just been following some guy around for two days. We bugged his house yesterday, then, we started following him around. It's not as if he's doing anything interesting, either – he just goes to work at the computer store and goes home each night, and that's it.

"Today, we were just sitting in a car all day, waiting for this guy to do something. And he didn't do anything – he went in, went for lunch, went back in, and didn't leave until closing time. Then we just followed him for another half hour, and he just went straight home.

"All the client told me was that he was connected to Enfant somehow, and that Enfant was apparently responsible for the death of the English man outside the hotel last week."

SSS nodded to himself. "According to him, there's a rumour going around that the English man was killed by Enfant. Where that came from, I have no idea. Probably something from back in England."

"Yeah, he told me that, too. It's just weird – apparently the English guy who was killed was investigating claims that Enfant was behind some illegal weapons deals. Where would a hacker fit in?"

SSS paused to consider his reply. "No sense getting worked up over it, Madlax. It's not as if we _really_ need to know, anyway. All you need to do is show him around, and keep an eye out and see if he's being tailed while he goes about his business. It's the job you're paid to do."

Madlax sighed. "Oh, ok. I know that. It's just... there's something about this guy I can't put my finger on."

"Who? The client?"

"Yeah. There's something about him. He doesn't seem to be very patient, and he's kinda condescending, but there's something else. I don't know what it is." Madlax sounded pensive, hesitant, as if she was unsure of herself. Clearly, she had something on her mind.

"A lot of your clients are like that, from what you've told me. As for that 'something else', you'll figure it out. Is he hiding something?"

A pause. "I don't know."

"Then let it go, for now. Like I said, you'll figure it out," SSS replied, in the slow, patient tone of a man addressing a frustrated child.

Another sigh. "Maybe. Thanks, Three Speed."

"Be careful, Madlax."

"Ok, I will. Bye."

The line beeped; Madlax hung up, terminating the call. SSS put the phone down and reached for the remote control on the coffee table, and, with the depression of the 'play' button, he resumed watching _Gilmore Girls._ This was one of his favourite episodes, and he was slightly irked that he had to be called while watching it.

He was proud of the fact that he owned the entire series on DVD, imported from America; he'd bought a copy of each season as it came out. He wasn't alone in his enthusiasm; Madlax was a fan as well. She'd watched it with him as she grew up.

SSS felt his stomach rumble. It was about the right time for dinner, and he was getting hungry; he also knew that in the time it would take for food to become available, he would be more so. Hence, he had to take appropriate action now to ensure food would be available soon.

He paused the DVD again, reached over to his telephone and started dialling the number of a local pizza place.

* * *

From the author: a new addition to my story is listing the day on-mission at the beginning of each chapter that starts on a new day. I've since added this to my prior chapters.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

Day 13

* * *

"Wait here." Bond shut the door of the Land Rover and walked across the street to the electronics shop.

Madlax sighed to herself, leaning against the passenger door's windowsill. They'd been following this guy around for eight days now, and although she was helping Bond familiarise himself with the city as they travelled, a lot of the time, if Bond did anything, she'd been relegated to just 'waiting in the car'.

The one time he let her accompany him for a substantial length of time out of the car was when they were breaking into Chong's apartment on the first day. But then, Bond had told her to wait outside the building with a walkie-talkie to see if Chong was returning from work early. Otherwise, they just spent time sitting in the car, watching Chong from a distance, or Bond would fiddle with his laptop, propped against the steering wheel – apparently, Bond could monitor whatever Chong was doing on his computer. If Bond wanted to do something, like observe from another angle, he would just tell her to wait in the car.

In the eight days they had been following him, Chong had done nothing that warranted suspicion. All Bond said about Chong was what he said on the first day, on the way to his apartment: that he suspected Chong was linked to the murder of the English man outside his hotel last week.

* * *

At the end of the second day, Madlax had called Three Speed; his reply was that the man they were following was a computer hacker somehow linked to the English man who was murdered last week. That was pretty much what Bond had said.

James Bond didn't seem like a particularly pleasant person to be around, Madlax thought. It wasn't the fact that he underestimated her or just thought of her as 'a girl'; lots of her previous clients thought and said the same thing, and she had learned to brush these critiques off. No; it was his tone. He was sharp, abrupt, with more than a hint of impatience. His speech seemed, to Madlax, to be clipped, abrupt, as if he didn't like talking to her.

There was something else, though... he seemed to regard her with guarded suspicion, as if he didn't trust her. She suspected that this, combined with his low opinion of her, was the source of his sharp, almost harsh tone.

Admittedly, his tone had softened somewhat, but she knew from experience that his opinion of her wouldn't change unless he saw her in action. However, she felt no need to prove herself to him.

In the meantime, no Enfant men had been tailing them the whole time they had had Chong under surveillance. Which was good.

Madlax sighed, leaning back against the seat's headrest. She looked down at her watch: three twenty-seven. She wondered what Margaret and Laetitia were doing right now...

* * *

Bond opened the door to the electronics shop. He had decided, after eight days of surveillance, that today would be it. There were no wireless networks belonging to Chong, either at his apartment or here in the shop, so he couldn't monitor his online communications without linking his PDA or his laptop back to the safehouse and downloading the feed from the computers there. Still, there was nothing incriminating.

A check of his apartment on the first day yielded nothing. No paper files or notes of interest. No scheduled meetings with anyone for the next month, according to his wall calendar or diary. Bond had made copies of all the portable or removable media in the apartment: nothing.

And the bugs he had planted revealed nothing. No meetings with anyone of interest; he'd had two friends over one night to watch an episode of _Star Wars,_ and he'd gone out for drinks on Saturday night, and that was it. Bond had taken surveillance footage of the people who visited him and the people he met with at the pub: they were friends from university or high school with no affiliations with any criminal groups.

As he was headed out for the third day of surveillance, he had received a call from Matthews. Apparently, there had been an increase in data traffic concerning movements of Enfant agents in the week after Anders was killed.

It seemed that a lot of Enfant communications concerning orders to be carried out were coming from a Nicholas Kozlowski. A Nafrecian national, he moved to Gazth-Sonika two months ago as the new head of Bookwald Corporation's Gazth-Sonikan branch. Given the numerous assets in Gazth-Sonika owned by Bookwald, he was very wealthy: one of the five richest men in the country. He wasn't afraid to flaunt his status, either: he was one of only four men in the country to own a Ferrari.

Bond decided that after Chong had been brought in for questioning, Kozlowski would be next. He asked Matthews to keep an eye on Kozlowski until then. In the meantime, they still needed to focus on Chong – even if they had a bigger fish to catch, they still needed to know what connections Chong, and possibly others like him, had to Enfant.

* * *

The girl, Madlax, had remained relatively silent for the eight days she had been with him. She still hadn't given her name, and it seemed she didn't know that Bond knew her name. He'd had a close call on that first day when he had found her on the Internet, but he managed to recover from staring at her in shock and disbelief before she started asking questions.

Bond was still sceptical of her abilities – he suspected that there was another mercenary agent out there named Madlax and that the girl or Three Speed had taken the name, trading on the other agent's reputation. If this was so, there were no photos or other information on the other Madlax that Bond could see, from accessing the SIS database. The only photos of a Madlax in Gazth-Sonika were the ones of the girl, released after the assassination of Jaham Korslan.

He had found something else in the meantime, something odd. Widening his search, he found that Madlax was the callsign of a pilot with the Nafrecian Air Force – Lieutenant Colonel Richard Burton, formerly of 16th Squadron, reported MIA in Gazth-Sonika in 1999, just before the start of the civil war. Burton had been spending time in Gazth-Sonika as an exchange officer with the Gazth-Sonikan Air Force prior to his disappearance.

Reports indicated he left the air force base he was stationed at to take part in a search and rescue mission to recover survivors of a plane crash. He volunteered, rather than being ordered to go; the reports did not indicate why. Updates based on radio communications indicated that they had set down in an abandoned village in the jungle to extract a squad of Kingdom Army soldiers under Galza fire upon receiving a radio request for extraction. The village the squad had taken shelter in had come under intense bombardment from mortar positions in the jungle, just within the treeline.

The soldiers who returned to the helicopter indicated that the colonel decided to investigate movement in one of the buildings and had ordered the rest of the squad to carry on to assist the soldiers under fire.

The report ended by speculating that Lieutenant Colonel Richard Burton had somehow become disoriented during the mortar attacks and fled into the jungle, possibly through the actions of another group of Galza guerrillas entering the village to try and flank the squad's position, and possibly killed in the confusion.

On a whim, Bond had looked up the Nafrecian Air Force's 16th Squadron. It was a fighter squadron, currently equipped with the Dassault Mirage 2000.

Their unit badge, an abbreviated version of which formed the unit's patch as worn on flight suits and flight jackets, incorporated a blue roundel. Bearing an image of Pegasus.

The roundel was identical to the one on the girl's jacket.

So, was there a connection between the colonel and this girl? Or was it a wild coincidence that she had his callsign as a name and wore his squadron's jacket?

It was an intriguing line of investigation, but not one that was relevant to his mission. It could wait.

Bond had learned little else about her in the meantime:

He knew that she carried SIG P210s in 9mm with customised wooden grips.

She had a fascination with Pegasus: in addition to the patch on her jacket, she had Pegasus earrings, and each of the grips on her P210s had an engraved brass seal inlaid in the wood that matched the patch.

Despite the wound on her arm, she had few if any scars, leading Bond to suspect that she wasn't sent on many missions that required her to engage an enemy, again casting doubt on her status as a mercenary who had seen action, let alone one of the best in the country. The only scars he could see were faint scars of thin cuts and scratches on her legs, most likely from walking through dense foliage in those hotpants of hers.

Save for some spare use of powder and the occasional use of lip gloss, she didn't bother with makeup.

Sometimes she slept in her t-shirt and hotpants, and sometimes she changed into an elegant-looking negligee when sleeping.

She preferred tea over coffee.

And she liked pasta – when they had dinner, either at the hotel restaurant or at another restaurant in the city, she had ordered pasta on four occasions. Lunches were somewhat similar; she bought pasta on three occasions while they were out doing surveillance. Apparently, tortellini was her favourite type of pasta.

So, nothing conclusive.

He still didn't trust her, an armed stranger, in his hotel room. For all he knew, she would try to rob or kill him at night, so he slept with the P99 under his pillow every night. At least he hadn't spent any more nights on the sofa – he had changed to a suite with a second bedroom.

* * *

Bond walked into the electronics shop. The shop was at ground level, with its own street frontage. It occupied a street lined by other stores and businesses. The sidewalks were quiet compared to those in the city, with less pedestrian traffic. Bond knew that would change with the evening peak, but even so, the sidewalks would still not be as thickly populated as those in the city.

The shop's door was glass and metal, with large glass windows forming the rest of the front wall. The windows were partially obscured with posters advertising computers.

The walls and ceiling were painted a light grey. A row of shelves of components and computer peripherals was arranged such that it formed two aisles running into the shop, with more shelves running along the walls. A single security camera was perched in a corner above the counter, mounted to the wall. A series of ceiling fans softly hummed overhead.

David Chong was manning the register at the back, his attention focused on a computer monitor behind the counter. He wore a blue t-shirt over slightly faded jeans.

There were no other customers, and, as far as Bond could see, no other staff.

Bond walked up to the counter. Chong hit a key on the keypad and looked up at Bond, a bored expression on his face. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes, Bond replied, "I'm looking for a new internal DVD-ROM drive for my computer. It stopped working two days ago."

"Sure thing. DVD-ROM drives are over there." Chong pointed to a spot on one of the aisles.

Bond walked over to the shelf in question and pretended to go through the DVD-ROM boxes. Selecting a box at random, he spent a few more minutes looking at the various stock on the shelves before he walked back over to the counter, box in hand.

"Anything else?" Chong asked.

Bond set the box with the DVD-ROM drive on the counter. "Yes, actually. I'd like to upgrade my graphics card."

"What are your requirements? Anything in particular?"

"The best you've got. Do you have anything besides what's on the shelves?"

"Hang on... we just got a batch of graphics cards in from our supplier. Gimme a minute." Chong got up and walked over to a door. Beyond was a storage area for surplus merchandise. Chong opened the door and walked in.

Bond waited a few seconds before he walked behind the counter and followed him. Stopping by the wall, he reached up and unplugged the wall-mounted camera, yanking on the power cord. He drew his mobile phone from a trouser pocket and started the audio recording function. Pocketing it in his jacket, he walked into the staff-only storage room.

The storage room was painted the same grey as the rest of the shop. A wooden door was set into the far wall. Boxes were stacked along the walls. Computer parts, loose and boxed, were arranged on tables where there was room. A trio of computer towers in various stages of assembly were on a table that served as an assembly workstation. An open screwdriver set was nearby.

Chong had been looking through a large brown box and had withdrawn from it a small box with a graphics card inside. He turned around as he heard Bond enter. His eyes widened in surprise. "You're not meant to be back here, sir."

"I know." Bond turned and closed the door behind him. "I have some questions that need answering. In private."

Chong narrowed his eyes. His mouth hung slightly open for a second. "Um... ok... what can I help you with?" He set the box on a table.

Bond drew a picture of Anders, holding it in the air. "Do you know this man?"

Chong looked at the image for a second. "No."

"Are you sure?"

Chong nodded. "Yeah."

"This man was killed two weeks ago outside the Colonial Hotel downtown. Do you know who killed him?"

"I just told you, I don't know the guy. How would I know who killed him?"

"Fair enough." Bond pocketed the photo. "On another topic, do you know anything about Enfant?"

"The crime network? Well..." Chong hesitated. "They're big on cybercrime – at least, that's what I've heard. Hacking into secured servers, stealing information, that sort of thing. They also do stuff offline – muggings, assassinations..."

"Anything else?"

"You mean, what else do I know? Not a lot. What I know is just what I hear from other people."

"There's a story going around that Enfant have been recruiting new programmers. I understand you have a computer sciences degree. Do you know anyone who has been contacted by Enfant in the past few months?"

"Nope."

"Have _you_ been contacted by Enfant?"

Chong stopped for a second. He clearly wasn't prepared for that question. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Bond looked at him silently for a second, narrowing his eyes. It would seem he needed to apply more pressure. Chong knew more than he was letting on.

It was time to bluff.

"I think you do know." He reached into his jacket and drew his P99 from his shoulder holster. Chong's eyes widened in surprise, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Bond levelled the P99 at Chong from his hip. "Let's start again."

"Um... ok..." Chong raised his hands in surrender.

Bond's tone hardened slightly. "There was a British man killed two weeks ago, outside the Colonial Hotel. Who killed him?"

"Wh-what's it to you?" Chong asked. Despite his defiant words, there was no mistaking his hesitancy or the nervousness in his voice.

Bond's tone hardened again, his delivery becoming sharper and more abrupt. "The British man outside the Colonial Hotel. Who killed him?"

Chong shook his head. "I dunno."

Bond raised his P99 to aim at Chong's head. "Let's try again. Who was it?"

"I dunno!"

"Was it Enfant?"

"I dunno! I had nothing to do with it!"

"Fine." Bond paused, but didn't lower his pistol. "We'll try another question. Why have you been hacking British government servers?"

"What? I don't know anything about that!"

Bond walked over to Chong and rested the muzzle of his P99 against his head. He had no intention of killing Chong, but nor did he want his questions to go unanswered. "You're not a good liar. You've been traced. We have records of you hacking servers on several occasions. Why?"

Apparently, Chong decided to cooperate, if reluctantly. "Ok! Ok!" he blurted. "I was told to download information from government registries. Bank accounts, pensions, everything."

"By who?"

"I don't know!"

Bond pressed the muzzle against Chong's forehead. "By _who?"_

"Ok! Enfant! I was recruited by Enfant!"

Bond released the pressure against Chong's head. "How?"

"I... er... I was approached by some dudes in suits a few months ago. Said they were from a software firm doing R and D and that they needed new programmers. They said they paid well."

"And then?"

"I... I was just writing code at first... then they started giving me other things to do, and before I knew it, they had me hacking servers."

Bond nodded and took a step back, lowering his P99 to point it at Chong from his hip. "Good. Now I want you to take me to them."

"I... er... don't see them face-to-face too often. They pay me via electronic funds transfer."

"How do they contact you?"

"Via email."

Bond recalled the traces to and from Chong's computer – they already had the email addresses and other communiqués, and SIS computer analysts were working on pinning down the locations, if they hadn't already. All the while, they were working on penetrating Enfant's computer network. "You're coming with me."

"What, now?"

Bond nodded. "Yes."

"Um... ok..."

"Good. Let's go."

Bond took another step back and gestured to the door with his P99. Chong reluctantly walked over to the door, opening it and walking out. Bond followed him out.

* * *

From the author: the details on Colonel Burton, as read in reports Bond accesses, are pure speculation on my part.

On scars: I'm assuming at Madlax would, 'in reality', carry scars on her legs from walking through dense bushes in hotpants. This would be from missions prior to and early in the series, when she is unaware of her unnatural status and can be wounded, and from missions subsequent to the series, when she is demonstrated to be capable of being injured.

Tea vs. coffee: this is purely arbitrary, but in retrospect it does tie in with the fact that Margaret Burton is seen drinking tea, and it also serves as a tie-in to the tea-drinkers found in _Noir, Madlax's_ predecessor.

Thanks for reading! Please leave reviews/comments!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * *

Having holstered his P99, Bond stepped outside the computer store, right behind Chong. It was mid-afternoon; the sun was well on its way down from its midday peak. Bond glanced down at his Rolex: three fifty-seven. There were still not many people on the streets, although there were more than a few schoolchildren, some accompanied by adults.

The Land Rover was across the street, several shops down. He turned in the direction of the car and started walking, shoving Chong forward. "Let's go."

"Excuse me, sir," a deep voice said from behind him.

Bond turned his head. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, you."

Bond turned around. A man in a dark grey suit and white shirt, his dark blue tie loosened, was standing behind him. He was tanned, with close-cropped dark hair. The man was slightly shorter than Bond, but he still had a subtle menace about him. Another man, slightly taller, clad in a black suit, was behind him. Bond turned around again, to face his original direction of travel: standing in front of Chong was a third man, also wearing a grey suit, although his complexion was lighter than the other two, and he wore sunglasses. Like the first man, the other two were subtly menacing.

"You two will have to come with us, please," the first man said.

Bond turned to face the first man. "Could you, perhaps, explain what this is about?" Bond asked.

"I'm not at liberty to say. You two will have to come with us, please."

They weren't police or some other government authority. If they were, they would have identified themselves immediately, showing a badge or some sort of ID to establish their authority. A prelude to a mugging, perhaps? Or were these men, in fact...

Bond offered a friendly smile. "Surely this is a misunderstanding. You must have us confused with somebody else." Their reactions would say a lot about what their intentions were.

The man looked to his left, then his right. He reached into his jacket and drew a Browning Hi-Power pistol from a shoulder holster. "I won't ask again, sir."

At the same time, Bond felt something press against his back. Most likely a pistol muzzle.

Holding his hands out to his sides, Bond turned slowly to face the man pressing his pistol into his back. The man pulled his pistol back as Bond turned, but kept it levelled at him. Chong stood to one side, still clearly nervous.

Bond then looked over the man's shoulder at the Land Rover.

It was empty. Madlax was nowhere to be seen. _I paid for a bodyguard, damn it! Where the hell is she?_

Inwardly, Bond frowned with dismay. If his three assailants had empty hands, or were armed with knives or other melee weapons, Bond could probably successfully subdue them, even if they were carrying pistols. Having pistols _drawn_ changed things.

By now, Bond thought it was highly likely that these men were sent by Enfant. Why would someone simply seeking to mug him come after him now, when he practically had Chong in custody and was coming out of his computer store, as opposed to any other time in the thirteen days he had been in the country? What were the odds of him being accosted by random muggers at such a time?

They obviously wanted him pretty badly if they were willing to draw weapons in public in broad daylight. Were they overeager? Unwilling to pass up an opportunity? Or had they decided or been ordered to intercept him at all costs?

Whatever, they were dangerous. Bond saw no choice but to comply. He nodded. "Very well."

The third man looked around cautiously before frisking Bond with his left hand and taking his Walther. Pocketing it in his jacket, he nodded to the other two men.

The first man tilted his head. "Follow me." He holstered his pistol and walked past Bond back into the computer store. Bond and Chong followed.

The second man fell into step beside Bond. The third remained behind Chong. Bond couldn't see if the third man had holstered his weapon or not.

Tucking a hand into his pocket, Bond pressed the arming button on the keyring finder. He risked a glance back at the third man as he entered the store. Bond noted he had taken off his sunglasses. A glance down revealed he was no longer holding his pistol.

"What is with you, Chong?" the third man asked sardonically as they re-entered the shop. "You got two guys following you in, what, three weeks? What is up with that?"

_So Anders' death really __**was**__ related to Chong – it wasn't a random mugging of a man who just happened to be on assignment. And these men were __**definitely**__ sent by Enfant._

Chong shrugged. "I dunno. He... he just showed up today." He was still quite nervous; it showed in his voice. Bond turned to face him, and saw that he was sweating, and averting his gaze. He was clearly out of his league.

"Well, he's been observing your shop for at least three hours before he walked in."

"Huh? Really?" Chong looked over at Bond.

_At least they didn't know I've been watching him for eight days, or that I've broken into his apartment._

They stopped at the counter. The first man to address Bond walked around the counter, over to the door to the storage room. He opened it and gestured for the others to walk in. As he was the only one to give orders so far, and was the one who had approached him initially with the others accompanying him and staying quiet, Bond mentally labelled him as the small group's leader.

As Bond walked to the door and passed him, the first man, the leader, said to him, "Get in there." The second man followed him closely.

Bond hesitated just after entering the storage room.

"Keep it moving, mister," the leader said.

The second man shoved Bond forward. Bond abruptly spun, clamping down on the man's outstretched arm with his right hand. Still holding the man's wrist, he punched him in the face with his left fist. He then released the man's wrist and punched him in the gut.

The remaining men reached into their jackets for their pistols. Bond shoved the second man in the direction of the third man. The impact sent the second and third men to the floor, the second man striking his head against the side of the counter and pinning the third under his body, while the leader, who barely stepped out of the way, staggered back and spun, having been hit in the shoulder by the second man's impact as he was shoved towards the third man.

Bond turned to his right to face the leader, delivering a roundhouse punch with his right fist that caught him across the jaw. The man staggered, taking a step back. He counterattacked by delivering a right uppercut that snapped Bond's head back. He followed it up with a swiping punch to Bond's face with his left fist.

Bond staggered back, his right cheek now bruised. The leader reached into his jacket for his Browning, eager to finish the fight quickly. Bond rushed forward again and grabbed the man's wrist as he reached into his jacket. Using his left hand, he yanked the man's arm out to the side. He punched the man in the face with his right arm, then turned his whole body, still holding the man's arm. Bond pulled the man in a small arc as he turned on his ankle.

Bond abruptly stopped turning and released his grip on the man's arm, intending to throw him against the wall. The leader slammed against the wall, grunting with shock. The plaster wall cracked with the impact, and a shelf attached to the wall a few metres away shook, the merchandise arrayed on it shuddering. Boxes fell from the shelf to the floor.

The leader extended one leg and kicked at Bond, who was coming in for another attack. Bond staggered back, having taken the kick in the gut. The leader stepped away from the wall, once again reaching into his jacket for his pistol.

Gasping for breath after the kick, Bond reached out with his left arm. He grabbed and wrenched the leader's right arm out to his left as the man drew his weapon, such that his arm was extended away from his body once again. He shook the man's arm violently, but he wouldn't let go of the Browning. Tightening his grip on his weapon, the leader discharged a round, the bullet flying out to strike the wall at an angle. Bond responded by slamming the man's hand against the wall, which cracked.

Bond grabbed the leader's left shoulder and ran forward, slamming him back against the wall. Grabbing the leader's pistol by the slide, he finally managed to wrench the Browning free from the other man's grip; it clattered to the floor with a flick of his wrist, thudding against the carpet. At the same time, he struck out with his right fist, punching the man in the face.

The leader tucked his left leg against his chest, planting a knee on Bond's torso. He then pushed out with his leg, propelling Bond back.

Bond's direction of movement took him away from the counter itself such that he would have been shoved past it, but his hip clipped the counter as he was thrown back. Papers, writing instruments, a computer monitor and the cash register shook with Bond's impact. He spun as he hit the counter, staggering, but Bond managed to recover quickly, spreading his feet to stop the spin. Bending over slightly, he prepared to attack again, intending to run at the leader and slam him against the wall again, but as Bond took the first step, the third man rushed him in a tackle that sent both men to the floor.

Releasing Bond, the third man used his left hand for support while drawing his right hand back for a punch. Bond, who had been lying on his side, rolled to lie on his back and swung his left arm to block the man's punch. He responded with a punch of his own that connected with the man's face. He kicked out, shoving the man back, flipping over to lie on his chest.

Looking up, Bond saw that by tackling him, the third man's forward movement had thrown his Walther from the man's jacket pocket. It now lay about a metre away, on the floor, within the doorway that led to the storage room. He pulled himself forward and lunged for it, rolling back up into a crouch and turning on one ankle as he picked up the weapon. His movement took him through the open door, and as he turned, he found he was just inside the storage room, his body framed by the doorway.

He found himself in a standoff; the third man had barely managed to get to his feet and draw his Browning in time to meet Bond.

"Looks like we have a standoff," the man said sardonically, panting for breath.

Bond snorted as he slowly got to his feet, breathing heavily himself. "Yes, it does."

The third man risked a glance to his left. Chong stood to one side, against a wall, clearly petrified with shock. "Why are you following this guy?" he asked, looking back at Bond. He stepped to his left to occlude the gap between the counter and the next wall.

Bond said nothing, staring evenly back at the man over his Walther.

Off to Bond's left, the second man had recovered from the shock of the attack and had now drawn his own Browning, groaning as he got to his feet. Further to Bond's left, against the wall, the leader had likewise recovered and picked up his weapon. Bond turned to aim at each of them briefly, then turned his attention and his Walther back to the third man.

The third man smiled smugly. "You'd better put your gun down."

Bond said nothing in response, nor did he lower his weapon.

Both men moved to flank the third man, the second man moving to Bond's right to block off the gap between the counter and the next wall. The leader approached Bond from the left.

The leader and the second man each sported a black eye, while the third man had a bruised cheek. All three men bore angry expressions, and all three men now aimed their weapons at Bond's head.

The leader, himself breathing heavily, gestured with his Browning for emphasis. "I didn't hear you answer my friend's question. Why are you following David Chong? Oh, and you still seem to be holding on to that gun."

Bond remained silent, taking an instinctive step back. He still did not lower his Walther.

"What do the British want with him?"

An interrogation. Bond said nothing.

"Wait," the second man said. "He had a partner. Where is she?"

"Right," the leader said. "The blonde from the SUV. Where is she?"

"I dunno," came the second man's reply.

"Me neither," said the third man.

"Maybe she's still in the SUV," the second man suggested.

"We'll deal with her soon enough," the leader declared. Focusing back on Bond, he said, "Where's your partner?"

He didn't entirely trust Madlax, but nor was he going to compromise her. Bond said nothing.

"You're outnumbered three to one, pal. Last chance to cooperate."

Bond snorted derisively. "Not a chance."

He saw movement – a small figure behind his assailants. Bond tensed on the Walther's trigger.

"You asked for – "

The man never finished his sentence. A pair of gunshots rang out, followed closely by a third. The leader and the second man grunted in shock and pain in the second before they fell to the floor.

Before the second shot sounded, Bond fired a shot at the third man.

In fewer than three seconds, all three of them were dead.

As the three men crumpled to the ground, Bond saw Madlax standing behind them, holding both of her P210s. Her arms were still outstretched, her left arm pointing to Bond's right, where the leader had stood, her right arm where the third man had stood in the centre of the group. Her large blue-lavender eyes were narrowed.

Still wide-eyed with surprise, Bond lowered his Walther as Madlax casually looked down at the bodies. "Thanks... for the rescue," Bond finally said in a clipped, abrupt manner, narrowing his eyes.

Madlax smiled, her eyes widening again. "Don't mention it," she replied casually, almost cheerily. That youthful, innocent voice. Coming from someone who had just gunned down three men.

She suddenly whirled, aiming both pistols at a retreating Chong. He had been slowly creeping away, his back still to the wall. "Where do you think you're going?" she admonished him sternly, her eyes promptly narrowing again.

Chong froze, eyes wide. Bond also stopped with the suddenness of Madlax's movement.

Madlax glared for another second before lowering her pistols. No one said anything.

Madlax turned her attention to the bodies. "I think it's safe to say these men were sent by Enfant," she suggested, breaking the silence.

Bond looked down at the bodies at their feet, then looked up at Chong, silently regarding him for a second. The man stared in shock, seemingly alternating between the bodies, Madlax, and the damage to the store. He wasn't going anywhere.

"They were observing me for at least three hours. If they knew more, they didn't say. It would have been good to take one of them alive so we could have found out." Bond sighed, turning his attention back to the bodies.

"By the way," Bond said, looking up at Madlax, "where the hell were you?"

"I thought I saw someone suspicious just before you came out of the shop. I followed them down the street to make sure they weren't with Enfant. By the time I got back, you were gone."

"And were they with Enfant?"

"Yes. Don't worry, I killed him already."

Bond sighed again. After another few seconds of looking down at the bodies, he looked up again. "I need to make a call." Bond drew his phone. Seeing that it was still recording, he stopped the recording function and called Matthews.

"Hello?" Matthews asked.

"Matthews. Bond here."

"James? What's up?"

"I've got Chong, but we ran into a bit of trouble."

"Really?"

"Three men from Enfant. They knew I was following him."

"Shit! Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. I'll need you to send someone to deal with the bodies. Now. I'm in the computer store."

"Hang on..." Bond heard the sound of typing and a mouse clicking in the background. "I've got your location," Matthews finally said, after a minute. "I'll send this to my people. They'll be there in an hour. How's Chong?"

Bond looked over at him briefly. "He's alright. I'll bring him over immediately."

* * *

For the second time that day, Bond and Chong left the shop together. The group turned and walked down the street, back towards the Land Rover. Bond was in the lead, with Madlax behind and to his right. Chong was to her left.

"You know," Chong said, "for what it's worth, I was never really comfortable with the idea of hacking into government servers."

"Afraid of getting caught?" Bond asked. He knew that Chong had been caught hacking into Gazth-Sonikan government servers before.

"Well... yeah."

"But you did it anyway."

"They said they were gonna kill me if I didn't."

"Right." Was he telling the truth, or just trying to get himself out of trouble?

Whatever, they could find out later, once a proper interrogation was conducted. That would be their next stop – the safehouse. There, they could question him at length and find out just how he was connected to Enfant, and how much he knew about them.

"Get down!" Madlax abruptly yelled.

A series of gunshots rang out. Automatic gunfire. It was coming from somewhere across the street.

Bond and Madlax dived for the pavement. Chong hesitated, frozen in surprise, then started to fall himself.

Madlax rose to one knee, drawing a pistol and, holding it in both hands, aimed it at a car on the street that was speeding away. Next to her, Chong fell to the sidewalk face-first.

Bond looked up; he saw a black Volkswagen sedan speeding off. Madlax tracked it with her pistol, but didn't open fire.

A drive-by shooting. It was probably the car the other three came in. The driver must have figured something was wrong when he saw Chong walking. Or maybe he came when the others failed to report in. Or maybe he was already on his way to come and pick them up.

Still lying on his chest, Bond attempted to take a mental note of the licence plate number. As the car sped off and turned a corner, Bond turned to Madlax."Are you alright?"

Madlax nodded. "Yeah," she said in a hurried tone.

"Come on; let's go," Bond said sharply. Madlax nodded, her shoulders sagging as she holstered her pistol.

Then Bond looked down at Chong.

Chong lay on his chest, twitching. His breathing sounded laboured. A pool of blood grew from a chest wound. Bond turned Chong over, grabbing his right shoulder.

Chong had sustained two gunshot wounds to the chest. His t-shirt was soaked with his blood. His chest heaved with each breath. He coughed once, blood coming to his mouth, then lay still.

"Damn it!" Bond clenched his fists and gritted his teeth in frustration.

Onlookers started running towards them. Several drew mobile phones and fumbled with them, some intending to make emergency calls, others planning to take pictures or video.

Madlax looked down at Chong. Still kneeling on the pavement, she rested a finger on his neck, feeling for a pulse, and frowned.

"Come on," Bond said, abruptly, rising to his feet. "Let's go."

* * *

Bond opened the door to the Land Rover and sat in the driver's seat, pulling the door closed. Beside him, Madlax took her seat, closing her door.

Bond wordlessly started the Land Rover's motor, and the vehicle pulled away from the kerb.

"So, what now?" Madlax asked as Bond drove away.

"We'll go back to the hotel. I have another call to make."

* * *

Back at the hotel, Madlax lay on her back on her bed. She let out a sigh. She turned her head to look over at Bond, who was standing out on the balcony. The glass sliding door had been nearly closed, so while she could barely hear him, she couldn't make out what he was saying. From what she could hear, Bond had sounded pretty angry at first, but he calmed down as the conversation continued.

Madlax looked over at the TV. The shooting on the street was on the news. Witnesses appeared, giving their own accounts of what had happened.

Bond pocketed his cell phone as he looked out over the city, leaning on the rail. After a few seconds, he turned and walked back into the hotel room, over to her bed.

"So, what now?" Madlax asked, sitting up.

* * *

Bond paused as he considered his response. Matthews had been emailing him daily reports on Kozlowski. These reports were derived from observation and communications intercepts over internet and phone lines. Combined with prior knowledge, this had allowed Matthews to work out a rudimentary routine.

With Chong now dead, Bond decided it was time he met Kozlowski.

"I'll be proceeding on my own. You don't have to follow me anymore. Your job is finished."

Madlax shook her head. "You've seen firsthand how dangerous Enfant can be. Now that you've been targeted by them, you're in even greater danger. I'm not going anywhere."

Looking at her evenly, Bond nodded in acknowledgement of her reply. He knew that he was a target, of course, but he was trained and equipped to deal with the threat Enfant represented. As a seasoned 00 agent, he had seen off similar threats on several occasions, and he was still here.

Besides, this was _his_ mission, not hers. It was _his_ responsibility, and as such, getting other people unnecessarily involved was unacceptable, especially if it was avoidable. He would conduct his mission as he saw fit.

Madlax presented a problem. She was stubborn. Was it a sense of duty, or loyalty? Was it genuine concern? Or was she simply trying to earn her pay?

She was right. It was dangerous, which was precisely why he didn't want her involved. He doubted that Kozlowski would act against him while in the casino, but he knew full well that he would be a target once he left, which meant she would be, too. She seemed to be willing to accept the risk to her life, but he wasn't.

Even with the assistance she had given him that afternoon, he still had doubts about her abilities. In this instance, she had had the advantage of sneaking up on her targets from behind. However, she could still get in the way, and in a close-quarter fight, she was a danger to herself as well as others.

Bond looked over at the TV. The story about the shooting had since ended, giving way to the latest news on the fighting in the jungle. He turned back to Madlax.

Then again, he thought to himself, an extra pair of eyes would be useful.

"Tomorrow night, we're going to the casino."

* * *

From the author: How was my writing for the fight? I wanted to be detailed enough for the scene to be easily visualised (I want my writing to be 'immersive' in that regard), but hopefully not so much so that the reader gets bogged down in detail. I wanted to really make it a 'blow-by-blow' account.

I had considered leaving Chong alive, but since he wouldn't really be doing anything after going into custody, he would essentially 'disappear', so I thought it would be better to kill him off than write the above scenario and not see him again for the rest of the story. The information Bond needs to proceed next comes from the parallel investigations involving the Enfant computers and Kozlowski. Killing Chong also shows that Enfant aren't above killing one of their own to achieve an end.

Thanks for reading! As always, feedback is welcome.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

* * *

Day 14

* * *

Madlax walked out of the shopping mall, holding a plastic bag in one hand and an open soft drink can in the other. As she stepped beyond the glass door, she immediately felt the difference in temperature between the air-conditioned interior and the warm exterior. She raised the opened aluminium can and took a sip of the contents.

"So, how's it going?"

Madlax turned to see Limelda Jorg standing just outside the shopping mall's entrance. Limelda wore a blue button-up blouse over off-white pants and leather cutaway shoes. On her right shoulder was a brown leather handbag. She gave Madlax a polite smile.

"Alright, I suppose," Madlax replied, giving a smile of her own. "And you?"

"I'm fine." Limelda took a step forward. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just managed to get in a bit of shopping. And you?"

"Yeah, I need to pick up some groceries. I was in the area." Limelda nodded. "So, what's in the bag?"

Madlax hefted the bag she was carrying. It bore the name of a local fashion outlet, a dressmaker. "I just got myself a new outfit. I'm just... taking it home."

"A new outfit?"

"Yeah." Madlax smiled. "I'd show you, but I'm kind of in a hurry."

The instruction Bond had given her was odd: get a dress to wear to the casino that night. She would get changed back at the hotel and they would go to the casino together in the Land Rover.

He had been reluctant to take her along, but she was insistent. So he had given her 400 yur to buy a dress. She'd been lucky to get a dress that fitted her so well on such short notice, too.

It was, she reflected, the first time she had left Bond since taking this assignment. How... unusual. She typically didn't leave a client for more than a couple of hours.

"I'll try not to keep you for too long, then, but it's been quite a while. So, any interesting jobs?"

"Yeah, V.I.P. work this time," Madlax replied. "You?"

"Nothing really special. I was contracted to kill some small-time crime boss two days ago."

"How'd it go?"

Limelda shrugged. "One shot. Three hundred metres. Piece of cake."

"Right."

"Yeah." Limelda smiled. "So, who's your V.I.P.?"

"A private investigator from England."

"England?"

"Yeah. It's about that man who was killed outside the Colonial Hotel two weeks ago."

"I remember that."

"Yeah."

"So, a private investigator... What, did his family have him come out here or something?"

Madlax shrugged. "I think so."

"So, has he found anything?" Limelda asked.

Madlax shook her head. "Not really." She had been instructed by Bond not to share anything with anyone. Not that she needed reminding: keeping her clients' confidence was part of the job.

"How long is this job for?"

Madlax shrugged. "I dunno. A few more days, maybe."

"Well, you said you were in a hurry, so I'd better not keep you, then," Limelda said, smiling more widely. "Good to see you again."

* * *

Bond stopped outside the safehouse, disembarking from the Land Rover. Once inside, he made his way to the bedroom and triggered the wardrobe's secret door, exposing the entrance to the underground control room and staging area.

Descending the staircase, he found himself in the underground facility. Matthews was on his way from the embassy and would be arriving soon; currently present were two MI6 staff seated at computers.

Both of them turned to face him. "Morning," they said asynchronously.

Bond nodded. He walked over to the female officer. "Any updates since yesterday?" he asked as he approached.

"Nothing really big," the officer replied. "No new orders being issued."

"Any indications of security being raised around Kozlowski?" Bond asked.

"No, sir."

"And the licence plate from the car?"

"Yes..." The tech brought up another screen. "That partial licence plate number and the description lined up. That particular car was registered as a... a company car for the Bookwald office. Not listed as stolen."

Bond nodded wordlessly, taking in the new information. Had the car been stolen? Possible; maybe the driver, who was an employee of Bookwald or knew someone who was, had just taken it and returned it later. Then again, Kozlowski, to whom Enfant communications were being sent and from whom orders were issued, according to the communication intercepts, was the head of the Gazth-Sonikan branch of Bookwald. It was reasonable to assume that he had some thugs in his employ, and he made company cars available for their use when he needed them to do something for him.

"Morning," Matthews called out from the stairwell.

Bond and the two technicians turned to face him, each saying "good morning" at once.

"What's the latest?" Matthews asked as he walked over to Bond.

"No news," Bond replied. "Nothing to indicate any changes to any established routine or activity – yet."

There was something else that Bond had meant to ask. "Could you show me the location of that Enfant communications hub? The one in the jungle?"

"Sure." The tech brought up another window and typed in a series of commands. The map of Gazth-Sonika appeared, with the location once again indicated by a bright dot.

"I'm going to have to start planning an investigation of that facility. Are there any roads, or tracks nearby?" Bond asked.

The tech zoomed in. "Yes, sir, there's a small road running through the jungle about ten kilometres east of the centre."

Bond looked at the map for a few seconds. "Is it possible to get a satellite image?"

"Right." The tech brushed a strand of light brown hair behind an ear and went to work. A satellite image appeared.

The dot appeared over a trio of grey rectangles in a clearing, surrounded by green jungle. The three rectangles were set at right angles to each other, forming three sides of an incomplete square.

"Yeah..."Matthews said. "Looks like a series of bunkers. Probably with a communications antenna." He pointed to a black object which appeared on top of one of the bunkers.

Bond pointed to a series of small green objects on the periphery of the rectangles, inside the partial square. "Jeeps. There must be rotating staff or regular supply runs or patrols." He narrowed his eyes, almost squinting at the monitor. "If there's a dirt track, I can't see it."

"Probably covered by the tree canopy," the tech said.

"What do you think?" Matthews asked. "Drive up, stop a few miles away, and go the rest of the way on foot?"

Bond nodded. "Could work."

"There's a river about nine kilometres south of the facility," the tech suggested. She zoomed out the view to show the river, which ran diagonally along the screen, northwest-southeast. "Right here." She tapped on the monitor.

"What's the terrain like?" Bond asked.

The tech brought up a topographic map of Gazth-Sonika. She zoomed in on the area indicated by the red dot on the other map. "Pretty much level ground. A slight upwards incline from the river. Dense forest, from the looks of the satellite image." The satellite image returned. "No trails from what we can see here."

"Perfect." Bond smiled to himself. He turned to Matthews. "Get on the phone to London. Tell Q to bring the boat; he'll know what you're talking about. Also, keep an eye on that clearing. I want to know if there are any movements in or out over the next four days. In the meantime, I'll see if I can get anything out of Kozlowski tonight."

"Got it," Matthews said. Nodding at the technician, he said, "Good work."

Turning back to Bond, he asked, "How do you plan to do that? Are you going to interrogate him in the casino over a game of blackjack?"

"You could say that," Bond replied.

* * *

From the author: Bond giving Madlax money to buy clothes is a reference to _Licence to Kill,_ the 16th James Bond movie, in which Bond gives Pam Bouvier money to buy a new outfit.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

* * *

In spite of the civil war, the south Asian nation of Gazth-Sonika marketed itself as a tourist destination for holidaymakers. Its demilitarised zone, the collective name for major cities and the surrounds where a treaty with Galza had ensured no combat in highly populated areas, had earned a reputation as a veritable tropical paradise, although the beaches weren't considered to be as good as those in other locations.

The capital was set up for tourists, with information kiosks at major intersections and along major roads. Tour buses and guided tours of the city were readily available. Several hotels with various star ratings were dotted throughout the city. Harbour lookouts offered good views of the city skyline. There were several shopping centres set up throughout the city. The nightlife was good, with nightclubs and bars frequented by foreigners. The restaurants offered local and foreign cuisine.

The city itself was similar to other south-east Asian cities, particularly Hong Kong. It was built around a bay where ships sailed in to dock in relative shelter when Gazth-Sonika was a Nafrecian colony and territorial possession.

* * *

Among the facilities available for adult distraction or recreation were a number of casinos. Bond was currently driving up to one such casino in the Land Rover.

He and his passenger were appropriately dressed; he wore a tailored dinner jacket, while Madlax, who sat beside him, was wearing a silver cocktail dress.

Bond had to admit, it was a good choice. The dress, somewhat form-fitting, accentuated her figure. The dress extended three quarters of the way down her legs, partially exposing her shins. The cut of the dress resulted in a good view of her cleavage. A slit ran up one side of the dress, ending halfway up her left leg.

On her lap was a matching silver purse. Bond suspected she had one of her pistols inside.

Breaking with her habit of spare makeup use over the past nine days, tonight she wore lip gloss, eye liner, eye shadow, rouge, and pink nail polish, as well as perfume that was applied liberally enough to leave a lingering scent in her wake. She also managed to tame – at least temporarily – the two cowlicks on her forehead.

Bond came to a stop outside the covered main entrance to the Royal Star casino. The casino had, like other casinos he had seen, a vaguely Greco-Roman styled entrance, with stone columns and high arches. The effect it gave was one of grand scale and opulence.

Opening the door, he nodded to one of the chauffeurs waiting outside, who promptly walked over to his side of the vehicle. A doorman walked around the vehicle and opened the passenger door for Madlax.

* * *

Madlax had never been to the Royal Star, as there had been no reason for her to go. No client to escort to the casino. None of her fellow mercenary agents was a gambler beyond the odd game of poker or blackjack. Three Speed never saw fit to take her, and as far as she knew, he wasn't much of a gambler anyway.

She found it odd that Bond's next lead would take them to a casino, of all places, but Bond apparently had some local contacts following up leads for him while he had had Chong under surveillance, and apparently Kozlowski's name came up. Bond's contacts had been keeping an eye on him, and now Bond wanted to meet him to see if he could get any clues out of him indirectly. He was, according to Bond's source, to be found at a blackjack table.

They walked deeper into the building, walking beyond the foyer. As they walked on, she took stock of her surroundings, and she had to admit, the Royal Star Casino was impressive. High ceilings, carved wood trim on the walls, deep pile carpet, pillars at regular intervals.

They came to what looked almost like a large hall, the casino's main gaming area. Rows of poker machines were off to one side, but Bond was more interested in the open gaming area with its various gaming tables, so he turned in that direction and started walking. Many of the male patrons wore suits or tuxedos; more than a few female patrons were wearing suits or dresses. For his part, Bond, with his pressed tuxedo and his bow tie, seemed right at home here.

Abruptly, Bond stopped; he'd spotted him. Kozlowski was over at a blackjack table, just as Bond had said he would be.

"He's over there." Bond indicated his position with a nod in the table's direction. "Shall we?" Bond asked Madlax.

They walked over to the blackjack table Kozlowski was seated at. There were only three players including Kozlowski, who all sat in a rough arc on one side, plus the dealer, seated opposite the players. Madlax had seen Kozlowski on TV once or twice, and he looked pretty much the same in real life: Caucasian, short, light brown hair going grey at the temples; narrowed grey eyes; sharp, prominent cheekbones; somewhat pointed nose; rounded jaw. He had a somewhat lean-looking build, and a bit of a tan.

She had previously regarded him as 'just' a CEO, relatively harmless. Now that Bond considered him worth investigating, she likewise considered him far less benign.

Everyone at the table was wearing a tuxedo. While Bond exchanged words with the dealer and sat down next to Kozlowski, Madlax stood watch nearby. She'd played a couple of rounds of blackjack with Three Speed, so she knew the rules, but this was the first time she'd seen it played professionally.

Reaching over to a wooden box with a slit, which was apparently called a shoe, the dealer pulled cards from it and dealt them to each of the players.

* * *

Several rounds went by. Bond had lost twice and had come under twenty-one seven times. Of those seven rounds, he had won four.

The last round finished, Bond glanced up at the other players. Kozlowski raised an eyebrow, apparently looking at Bond's small pile of chips. He turned in his chair to face Bond. "Well, I must say, it looks to me like you're on to something, here, Mister...?"

"James Bond." Bond turned to face him and extended a hand.

"Nick Kozlowski." Kozlowski took Bond's hand and shook it, smiling as he did so. His English was excellent, with a hint of a French accent. "I mean, there were those early losses you took, but now you've got a, what, four-round winning streak here?"

"Well, one manages." Bond smiled before turning back to his pile of chips.

Here was a chance to find out if Kozlowski was linked to Enfant. "Do you come here often?" he asked, placing a 500-yur chip in his betting box before turning back to Kozlowski.

"Not too often. I just like to pop in for a game or three." After a brief glance at Bond's chip, Kozlowski placed a higher-value chip – a thousand yur – in his box.

"Pop in? After work? So, what do you do for a living, Mister Kozlowski?" Bond asked. Turning to the dealer, he nodded to him, indicating his readiness to proceed.

"I work for the local branch of the Bookwald Corporation." Kozlowski turned back to the dealer and nodded briefly.

"Really? In what capacity?"

"Oh... I'm actually head of the local branch." Kozlowski smiled. He looked down as the dealer started to pass out cards from the shoe. They were dealt face-down.

Bond raised an eyebrow as his cards were dealt. "Very impressive. Must be a stressful job, being the head of the local branch of such a large company. I understand Bookwald has significant investments in this country."

As he spoke, he looked down at the cards he had been dealt and carefully picked them up. Looking back up, Bond nodded to the dealer. "Stand."

"Yes, lots to keep me busy, what with our various investment portfolios. Hotels, gyms, a tour bus business..." Kozlowski waved a hand casually in the air, giving a faint grin. "We even have a twenty-five percent stake in this casino."

He bent ever so slightly to pick up his cards, but the grin faded just as he turned his cards to look at them, as if a thought had occurred to him. Then again, it may have just been the cards he was dealt.

Still looking at his cards, he said, "I don't believe I've seen you around." He turned to face Bond. "Are you visiting, Mister Bond?"

One of the other players indicated they would stand.

"Yes. I'm on holiday. I was told Gazth-Sonika can be quite beautiful. I just... had to come and see it for myself."

The other player took a hit.

For his part, Kozlowski seemed to be in no hurry."Really? Well, yes, it can be. Provided you stay in the demilitarised zone, that is. It can get pretty nasty in the jungle." He turned back to the dealer. "Hit me."

"Really? How so?" Bond asked.

The dealer dealt out two more cards as Kozlowski spoke. "That's where the fighting is. The Kingdom Army and Galza can really go at it sometimes. Then there's the wild animals. Elephants, tigers, apparently even crocodiles out there. You could consider the jungle to be... hostile territory."

Bond thought for a second to consider his response. He had to choose his words carefully.

"Well, that's a shame," he replied. "I was looking forward to a little hike in the jungle. Who knows what sorts of secrets could be lying in wait."

"Secrets?" Kozlowski raised an eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"

He seemed to be at least as interested in this conversation as he was in the game, Bond thought. He hadn't even looked down at the card he had just been dealt.

"Secret hideouts, treasure stashes." Bond gave the other man a tight-lipped smile. "I'm told that there's some sort of ancient civilisation that used to live here. Who knows? Maybe there's a secret temple or some other place in the jungle, containing a wealth of information about the civilisation that used to live here. Maybe something from their heyday, or something from earlier days, from their... infancy."

As Bond spoke, Kozlowski finally looked at his third card, picking it up carefully. He scowled for a second before looking back up at Bond, the scowl on his face fading fast as he finished speaking. Perhaps he had gone over twenty-one.

Bond noted that Kozlowski had ever so slightly raised an eyebrow at the word 'infancy', and he could have sworn that his eyes had widened – just a little, and for just a second. "Do you... have an interest in archaeology, Mister Bond?" he asked, his tone unchanged.

"I have an interest in the past, to learn about it. Knowledge of the past could be important, as after all, knowledge is power."

Kozlowski's eyes narrowed slightly. "A man with a sense of adventure, are you, Mister Bond?"

"Yes, you could say that."

Every player showed his hand. Bond had twenty. Kozlowski had twenty-four. The third man had eighteen. The fourth had twenty-two. The dealer had fifteen.

Kozlowski growled to himself as chips were redistributed. "It seems you win again, Mister Bond."

Bond smiled and nodded as he took the newly won chips. "Thank you."

He gestured to the table. "Care for another round?"

* * *

After another six rounds of blackjack, Bond decided he had had enough. He had what he came for.

He cashed in his chips; twenty-two thousand yur. "That's impressive," Madlax said as she stood beside him at the counter. She meant it, too; she was surprised how much he had won.

"Thank you." Bond took the bills, nodding to the man at the counter. He pocketed the money and turned around, casting his eyes over the gaming area. Patrons were still clustered around or walking between the various gaming tables.

"I think I'll have something to drink," Bond declared, walking over to the bar. Madlax followed him, finally sitting beside him when he sat at the bar. She glanced down at the polished wood for a second, looking up when a bartender approached.

"Good evening," he said in greeting. "What can I get you tonight?"

"A medium dry vodka martini," Bond said in reply. "Shaken, not stirred." He turned to Madlax. "And for you?"

Madlax looked down at the drinks list for a few seconds, frowning to herself as she considered the available options.

"You know what?" Madlax looked up at the bartender. "Make that two."

* * *

Outside the casino, Limelda Jorg, former lieutenant in the Gazth-Sonika Kingdom Army, stood on a rooftop overlooking one side of the casino. She pulled a pair of binoculars out of a pouch hanging from her neck.

She could see through the windows and see the bar from here. Madlax was seated there, wearing a silver dress. A dark-haired Caucasian man in a tuxedo was sitting next to her, the same man she'd seen Madlax enter the casino with. He must be the private investigator Madlax was talking about.

Limelda had been keeping an eye on Madlax and her new client since they had met outside the mall earlier that afternoon. She surreptitiously followed her from the mall to a hotel, the Republic, a five-star hotel a short distance from the airport. If she was meeting her client there, he must be pretty rich... but a P.I. staying at a five-star hotel?

After about an hour, Madlax left the hotel with a man in a dark green SUV, and they drove here, to the Royal Star. What were they doing at a casino?

From outside, she lost track of them, but after close to an hour, they reappeared at the casino's bar, visible from the window. There, they chatted for a while, only interrupted by a bartender bringing them drinks. Limelda could have sworn Madlax was smiling, even laughing at least twice.

Just what were those two doing at the casino? What were they up to? Was there some lead that the client was investigating?

It was possible, Limelda supposed, that the client was just after some R & R, and that Madlax was simply accompanying him in her capacity as bodyguard. Maybe there was nothing of interest at the casino.

Limelda shook her head. She was just getting obsessed again. What did it matter to her, what Madlax was doing right now, anyway? It wasn't her business.

She packed her binoculars and walked away from the edge of the roof.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Please continue to leave your comments/reviews/feedback!


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

* * *

"Sir?"

Kozlowski looked up at the speaker, one of his suited bodyguards, before turning back to the dealer.

"Excuse me." Kozlowski got up from the blackjack table and walked over to stand by a nearby wall with the man.

The man pulled out a cameraphone, displaying an image. It was a picture of a blonde woman wearing a silver dress. She looked familiar – Kozlowski was sure he had seen her here, just now – but that wasn't it. He had seen her somewhere else... where was it?

"It's Madlax. She was here, in this casino. She came in with that man you were playing with."

Kozlowski's eyes widened at the mention of the name. _She was here? _He had noticed her, but had paid little attention to her.

He frowned as he looked at the image, narrowing his eyes. "You're sure?"

"Positive, sir."

Kozlowski looked up at the man. "Where is she now?"

"She just left the casino, sir. I saw her leave through the main entrance."

Kozlowski thought for a second, looking out over the gaming room. Madlax had been a thorn in Enfant's side for months. Her various undertakings – at least, those attributed to her, as a lot of what was previously known about her was rumour – had led her to act in opposition to the Kingdom Army or Galza, suggesting that like the other mercenary agents in this country, she was a freelancer, not discriminating in the missions she was undertaking. Still, until recently, she was considered a nuisance rather than a serious threat.

His predecessor, Friday Monday, had developed something of a fixation on her when she had become more prominent a few months ago. After the story that she had stolen data concerning Bookwald and Enfant's business dealings with the Gazth-Sonikan government from Bookwald's corporate servers had surfaced, as discovered by Friday's henchman, Carrossea Doon, Friday made finding her a high priority. She had been captured, but escaped, and she had effectively been on the run since. Squads sent after her, both in the city and in the jungle, had been killed off.

After Friday had been killed at his headquarters in the jungle, taking two squads of Kingdom Army soldiers and his supercomputers with him in a fire, rumours abounded that Madlax was responsible – none confirmed, of course. The data were still out there, too, although one man claimed to have thrown a copy into a sewer grating when Madlax had been captured.

Basically, Enfant considered Madlax to be a threat that needed to be eliminated. And she'd just casually walked into this casino.

Kozlowski frowned to himself. Come to think of it, Mister Bond himself looked vaguely familiar as well. He thought he had seen a picture of him recently...

Maybe that was it. Late yesterday, he had been shown a grainy cameraphone picture of a dark-haired Caucasian man who had been seen following David Chong yesterday. The two three-man teams that one of his underlings had despatched to intercept him failed, with four ending up dead and the fifth man taking it upon himself to try to kill Chong and the man in a drive-by shooting. While he succeeded in killing Chong, the mystery man had escaped, and the other car, which had been parked in a nearby street with its driver at the ready, had been unable to find him in the area after the shooting.

Kozlowski had only heard of the incident last night, after it was over. While he appreciated the teams' decisiveness in taking action promptly, he disapproved of killing Chong, even if it was to prevent him divulging information on Enfant – he had been one of his most promising hackers, even though he seemed to have attracted attention to himself, as evidenced by people who were following him, first that man two weeks ago, and yesterday.

Madlax, showing up with a mystery man who looked like someone who had been following one of his hackers... coincidence?

Thinking it over, now he wasn't so sure that Mister Bond and the man from yesterday were one and the same. He didn't have a copy of the photo on him to look at again, and he had only seen it once, last night. The detail in the cameraphone's picture had been tough to make out, as it had been taken at a distance. If he had a copy on him now, he could have made a proper comparison between the two.

In the meantime, Madlax had to be dealt with. Here was a chance to finish her off.

He turned back to the suited man. "Did she leave in a car?"

"Yes, sir. They're leaving right now."

"Alright." Kozlowski paused for a second. "Get four cars. Now. I don't want to take any chances. Kill her. Make sure to kill Mister Bond, the man who was with her, too: no witnesses."

* * *

Bond entered the Land Rover, settling into the driver's seat on the left-hand side. The valet closed the door for him. Bond nodded. "Thank you."

"A pleasure, sir," the man replied politely before walking away from the vehicle.

Madlax entered the Land Rover, pulling herself into the front passenger seat as a valet closed her door. Bond gave her a second to get settled before driving off.

"So, now what?" Madlax asked as they pulled away.

"Kozlowski definitely knows something," Bond replied. "Chances are he really is our man." He had barely reacted to Bond's hints during their brief conversation, but it was enough. It confirmed what they already suspected.

"So... does that mean we'll be following him, now?"

"_I_ will be," Bond replied, as he turned a corner. "Your job is done. You can go home."

"Look, I told you already, Mister Bond, I'm not going anywhere. Especially since Enfant is involved."

"Suit yourself." Bond turned back to the road.

After a few minutes of driving through the city, a horn honked behind them. Bond looked in the rearview mirror.

Sure enough, there was a car behind them; the glare from its headlights made any other identifying details difficult to make out at a glance. The man in the passenger seat had stuck his head and shoulders out the window, and was gesturing for them to pull over.

Bond slowed slightly. The car pulled up alongside them, to their right. He could now see enough to identify the make and model of the car, and he saw that it was a Volkswagen. A dark Volkswagen. Just like the one he saw speeding away yesterday after Chong was shot. Although he couldn't see the licence plate, he suspected that it was the same car. He lowered the front passenger window using the controls on his door, briefly looking over at the other car as he did so.

"Pull over!" the dark-skinned driver of the other car yelled up at them.

"What for?" Madlax called out.

"We have some questions for you!"

* * *

Madlax turned to Bond. Bond shook his head, his eyes on the other car's driver before turning back to the road. Police or other government officials would have identified themselves by flashing a badge or other identification; these were probably more Enfant men. Maybe he had unsettled Kozlowski during the game.

She turned back to the other driver, regarding him silently through narrowed eyes.

To the other driver's right, the front seat passenger in the other car, who had pulled himself back in the car, produced a submachine gun and handed it to the driver, who brandished it menacingly. Madlax's eyes widened and she sank in her seat, pressing herself against the seat back as she hurriedly raised the window.

Alarmed, her heart immediately beat faster; she felt it in her chest. "They're armed!"

* * *

Bond took a quick glance to his right. The driver was still visibly holding the weapon, one hand still on the steering wheel.

He then looked in his rearview mirror. He saw a second dark car behind them, very close. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like a Volvo.

Madlax turned back to Bond. She watched as he pressed a button on the Land Rover's console, and she felt the vehicle shift as the suspension lowered, bringing the Land Rover closer to the ground. Likewise, she saw the field of view in the windscreen changing.

Bond then pressed and held down another button on the centre console. A green head's up display appeared on the windscreen in front of Bond, showing the car's speed and superimposing green squares over cars that were visible in the HUD's field of view. At the same time, the GPS map on the central display screen was replaced by a split-screen view, showing the rearview camera on one side and what looked like a small tactical radar display on the other.

"What's going on?" Madlax asked, looking at the HUD in confusion.

"This isn't exactly a stock Land Rover," Bond replied.

The Volkswagen to their right was accelerating. Bond realised that this driver's intent was to cut in front of them. He moved the gear selector from D to the left, giving him manual control over the gearshifts. He downshifted and accelerated away before the Volkswagen could start to shift lanes.

The Volkswagen accelerated towards them in the adjacent lane, while the Volvo likewise accelerated.

Bond looked at a menu projected on the left side of the HUD. He used the controls on the Land Rover's steering wheel to select 'OIL SLICK'. He then pressed another button, and a small tube slid out from under the Land Rover's bumper. It squirted oil onto the road for four seconds before retracting. Bond upshifted as the revs approached the redline.

The Volvo – by now, Bond was certain it was a Volvo – skidded on the slick road with the sudden loss of traction. It slid along, slowing ever so slightly as it did so. The driver seemed to be trying to brake, but the loss of grip meant that he was losing control of the car.

The Volvo driver pulled over to his right, intending to pull in behind the Volkswagen in the right lane, but instead, the car started to spin out. The driver frantically spun the wheel, applying full lock as he turned the wheel left. The Volvo clipped the Volkswagen as it spun, the Volkswagen's back swaying to the right with the impact. However, the Volkswagen's driver surged ahead, straightening the car out.

Behind them, the Volvo ended up hitting a parked car, its right side slamming into the parked car's left such that when the Volvo finally came to a stop, it was parallel to the other car.

Bond frowned to himself as the Volkswagen continued its approach, undeterred by the recent impact.

* * *

"I'll deal with this," Madlax declared. Bond glanced at her; she reached into her purse and drew a P210. Holding it in her right hand, she opened her window with her left, the whirr of the lowering window becoming drowned out by the rushing air.

As soon as the window was fully open, she stuck her arm out the window, pointing her pistol behind them, and fired, using only the external mirror as a guide.

The first two shots struck the Volkswagen's bonnet, but the next two shots hit and penetrated the windscreen, the third glancing off a headrest and the fourth striking the driver in the shoulder. The fifth shot struck the windscreen again without hitting any of the occupants. Madlax shifted her arm, aiming for the front tyre.

The driver swerved to the left and slowed down slightly, pulling in directly behind them. Madlax narrowed her eyes at the mirror, but the Volkswagen had pulled in directly behind them, denying her a shot. Once behind them, the car wobbled from side to side as the driver struggled to control his car with an injured shoulder.

The front passenger produced his submachine gun and started firing. Likewise, the man in the back seat leaned out the left window and fired his pistol. The bullets bounced from the rear windscreen's bulletproof glass.

Madlax pulled her arm inside and looked up at the road ahead. They were fast approaching a set of traffic lights, an intersection with a main road. "Go right," she said.

* * *

"No, we're going left," Bond replied. He started to lift off the throttle and shifted down to make the turn.

"Who's the guide here?" Madlax reached over and yanked the steering wheel, turning it right as they entered the intersection.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bond shouted. Seeing it was too late to correct their course, he, too, turned the steering wheel to the right. The Land Rover swung sharply to the right, both occupants being pulled to the left as the vehicle turned.

The road they entered was a large main road, which had three lanes on each side. As soon as they entered, and the Land Rover settled after making the turn, Bond shifted to a position in the middle lane, with one set of wheels straddling the right lane. He noted for a second that the buildings were lower; they were leaving the CBD, heading out into the suburbs. As they sped along, Bond found that the shopfronts were gradually being replaced by residential buildings, apartment complexes giving way to individual houses.

He glanced in the mirror. The Volkswagen was still directly behind them, the front passenger with his head and shoulders out of the window. Bond gunned the throttle, upshifting as he did so.

As the Volkswagen's passenger fired once again, Bond scrolled through the HUD menu and selected 'CALTHROPS'. A small rack emerged from under the Land Rover's bumper and released a set of calthrops, sharp, four-pointed metal objects that littered the road behind them.

The Volkswagen's tyres were blown out as soon as it drove over the calthrops; Bond heard the bangs from the tyres. A quick glance in the mirror revealed that sparks from the friction of the metal wheel against the road were visible from one wheel, and the car slowed considerably. The Volkswagen pulled over and ground to a halt by the kerb.

The Land Rover sped on ahead. Bond upshifted.

"I think we lost them," Madlax said.

Bond kept going at speed for another few hundred metres before he started to slow down, easing off the throttle. He looked around; they seemed to be passing an industrial park, judging by the numerous warehouses and what looked like a factory.

Bond glanced down at the radar display. Each car on the road around them was indicated by a radar signature. Most were moving at or close to the speed limit, which was slower than their current speed, although the Land Rover was itself slowing down as he released the pressure on the throttle.

Then he saw there were two radar signatures behind them that were closing fast. "No such luck," he told Madlax.

* * *

Madlax turned around, looking through the rear windscreen. She could make out two sets of headlights approaching fast. She was pressed against her seat as Bond gunned the throttle.

One of the cars remained directly behind, while the other came up to their left. She could make out a man leaning out of the passenger side window of the car that was behind them, a submachine gun drawn. He fired a burst at the back of the Land Rover, leaving scratches on the glass.

The car pulling up to their left was a black Honda sedan. Its front passenger wound down his window, drawing a pistol.

"Here's one, coming up on the left," Bond announced.

Madlax turned her head. Sure enough, a black car was fast approaching from the left. She hefted her P210, turning her body in the seat to fire on the car.

Madlax turned in her seat to face the approaching car. "Open this window!" she shouted, gesturing to the left rear window with her P210. Bond lowered the window using his door-mounted controls.

As soon as the window was low enough, Madlax fired at the new car. Even with the Land Rover lowered to its minimum ride height, given the Land Rover's size, she was still higher relative to the road than they were; she could see the car's roof, and below that, she could barely see the passengers in the car. The first two shots cracked the top of the windscreen. The third hit the front passenger, grazing his shoulder as the car pulled away slightly, and then the P210's slide remained back, not cycling forwards.

Out of ammo.

Madlax turned in her seat and bent over to retrieve her purse, which was now in the footwell.

* * *

Bullets tore into the Land Rover through the open window, striking the headlining due to the angle the gunmen were using; the Land Rover was taller than the Honda, and the two cars were close together, forcing the gunmen to use a high angle to shoot the interior of the Land Rover. Madlax tried to sink lower into the seat as she removed the empty magazine from her P210.

Bond glanced at his mirror; the man in the car's back seat had a submachine gun, and he was leaning out the open window.

He gritted his teeth and accelerated forwards, denying the gunmen the open window. Instead, the volley of bullets struck the intact glass of the rear three-quarter, between the C and D pillars.

Fortunately, there was a gentle right bend in the road, which further denied the shooters a chance to hit them. The shooter ended up hitting the rear windscreen for a few more seconds. Then the gunfire stopped – perhaps his weapon's magazine was empty.

He turned to Madlax. "Ready yet?"

Madlax slid the fresh magazine in and moved the slide forwards. "Now I am." She turned in her seat, bracing her right arm with her left. "Try and pull over to the right so I can get a clear shot."

"Right." Bond slowed again, allowing the car to catch up. The backseat shooter raised his weapon as the Honda came alongside the Land Rover. This time, he was accompanied by the injured front passenger, who raised his pistol, gripping his wounded right shoulder with his left hand. Glancing in his external mirror, Bond pulled to the right.

* * *

As the Land Rover pulled away from the Honda, more of the car entered the field of view offered by the window. Madlax fired two shots at the Honda's driver as the two passengers opened fire. He slumped forward in his seat, his head bowed over the steering wheel. His passengers promptly stopped shooting, the front passenger trying to steer the car to the kerb.

The Honda began to lose ground, veering over to the right in an attempt to pull over. As Madlax fired a third shot, Bond swerved to his right to overtake a car in front. Madlax's shot went wide, missing the Honda completely.

The black Honda swung behind the car Bond had just overtaken. It continued to veer right, finally reaching and then mounting the kerb. The car continued, although it was slowing.

* * *

They continued on through a residential area. The traffic grew progressively lighter; there were fewer and fewer cars for Bond to weave through.

More gunfire came from directly behind. The fourth car's front passenger was shooting at the Land Rover's rear windscreen.

Bond glanced at his exterior mirror, at the fourth pursuing car. The driver of the fourth car pulled over to the left and gunned the throttle, approaching from the left as the Honda had done.

* * *

Madlax sighted the fourth car, another Honda, through the still-open left rear window. The Honda's backseat passenger leaned out of the car's right rear window, brandishing a submachine gun.

Her first shot impacted the roof. She fired two more rounds, one hitting the roof, the other flying into an open window without hitting anyone. "Pull over to the right!" she yelled.

Bond turned, pulling the Land Rover to the right. Madlax fired two shots, both striking the door, and then her P210 was empty.

No more magazines – that little handbag only had room for the pistol and one magazine.

"No mags!" she shouted, turning in her seat and dropping the P210 on the floor. She turned to Bond and reached over to him, groping his chest for his pistol.

The backseat passenger in the Honda took the opportunity to swing his weapon in a small arc, spraying the side of the Land Rover with bullets.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bond yelled over the gunfire. Turning to face her, he shifted his right arm up to block Madlax's hand, and in so doing jerked the steering wheel left. He turned back to the road and hurriedly shifted the Land Rover back to the right, narrowly avoiding slamming into a car in the lane to his left.

"I need your gun! I'm out!"

"Ok! Fine!" Bond reached into his jacket with his right hand, unsnapping the flap and drawing his P99. He held it up for her, and she grabbed it by the slide.

Bond swerved sharply left to pass a car ahead. This brought them directly in front of the now-braking Honda, which meant that the rear seat gunner could only hit the rear windscreen.

Madlax fumbled with the weapon as Bond shifted the Land Rover to the left. Turning it over in her hands, she now held the P99 by the grip. Bond shifted to the right again, slowing down slightly to allow the Honda to catch up.

Turning in the seat once again, she sighted the Honda's backseat passenger through the open window and fired the P99. The first shot hit the roof of the other car, but the second struck home, hitting the man in the head. He slumped back against the Honda's rear seats. Madlax shifted and fired three more shots, two hitting the door, the third barely missing the front passenger and flying past his head.

* * *

Bond had an idea. "Hang on, Madlax."

Bond selected 'MISSILES' with the steering wheel controls. By now, there were practically no other cars on this road, so the risk of collateral damage to civilians was low.

Each of the front doors was actually made with two painted metal panels on the outer surface, instead of the usual one. The result was a thin seam that bisected the door on each side, separating the upper and lower halves of the body of the door.

The lower panel on each door slid out and up. A rack bearing two missiles slid out into the airflow on either side of the Land Rover. A pair of green crosshairs speared on the HUD, indicating unguided missiles.

Bond braked suddenly, shifting down a gear, and the second Honda shot out in front of him to the left. He designated the Honda as a target, and one of the crosshairs disappeared, replaced by a red circle superimposed on the Honda. A tone sounded, and Bond pressed a button set into the steering wheel.

A missile shot out from the right missile rack, fins popping out as it flew away from the Land Rover. It steered itself towards the Honda and struck the rear bumper, detonating a fraction of a second later.

Everything aft of the C-pillar was destroyed. The left rear wheel flew off in the explosion, and the interior was briefly engulfed by flames. The Honda was pushed forward by the explosion, accelerating slightly, before the car started to lose speed, the rear underside dragging along. The flaming wreckage promptly came to a stop.

Bond swung the Land Rover to the right to avoid the burning Honda. He deselected missile control, and the missiles retracted into the doors.

No sooner had the panels shut than another salvo of bullets clattered against the rear windscreen.

* * *

Madlax looked at her door's mirror. A pair of headlights was closing in fast. Madlax could just make out a shape leaning out of a window.

* * *

Bond glanced at the radar display. A single signature was closing in fast.

He looked at his rearview mirror. He saw the glare of headlights behind them. "What do you see?" he asked.

The first Honda was back. In spite of the glare from its headlights, she could barely make out the cracked windscreen.

"It's that first Honda!"

Bond glanced at Madlax. "I thought you shot the driver!" He looked down at the image from the rear-firing camera. Sure enough, it was a Honda. Bond could just make out the grille, despite the headlight glare.

"I did!" Madlax protested. "They must've... never mind!"

Madlax stuck her right hand out the window and fired the P99. The first shot hit the front bumper, but the Honda had moved in line directly behind the Land Rover as Madlax fired a second shot. The bullet glanced off the Honda's right mirror.

Madlax drew her arm back into the Land Rover. "I don't have a shot."

Bullets struck the rear windscreen.

Bond selected 'SMOKE' on the HUD menu. Another small pipe emerged from beneath the rear bumper, and grey smoke issued forth in a cloud trailing in the Land Rover's wake.

The Honda's driver slammed on the brakes as the car was engulfed by the cloud. He pulled over to the right, intending to pull over. Decelerating, the Honda travelled right.

And straight into a tree by the side of the road.

The front of the Honda crumpled instantly.

Hearing the crunch of a crash, Bond glanced in the rearview mirror. In the darkness, he could just make out the shape of a car stopped by the road behind a tree.

He looked down at the Land Rover's tactical radar. A single signature on the road behind them had stopped moving altogether.

He pulled over, braking sharply as he did so to come to come to a halt by the side of the road.

Looking around, Bond observed that by now, they were on the outskirts of the city, the last of the buildings a few hundred metres behind them. Ahead were short expanses of grassy plains, and a few kilometres away was the jungle. While there were still street lamps lining the road, they ended a couple of hundred metres short of the treeline, where the road cut a path through the jungle.

Bond unbuckled his seat belt before turning to Madlax, a hand outstretched. Madlax handed over his P99. He removed the magazine, saw rounds at the top, and reinserted it. He set the weapon on his lap before reaching in front of Madlax to open the glove compartment and take a small Maglite flashlight.

"Stay here," Bond said as he opened the door and exited the Land Rover. Turning, he walked slowly towards the crashed Honda, holding his P99 in his right hand and bracing his right arm with his left. He turned on the Maglite and shone the beam on the Honda.

He heard the sound of the passenger door opening – clearly Madlax had ignored him and decided to come and have a look. Without turning or breaking his stride, he barked, "Damn it, I told you to stay in the car!"

"Forget that!" Madlax shouted back.

Bond sighed. He didn't want to argue now. "Just stay back, will you?"

In the light from a nearby street lamp, Bond could see the damage the Honda had taken. The front was crumpled, about a foot of bodywork almost wrapped around the tree. The windscreen was cracked, the view obscured by multiple cracks.

A hand emerged from the driver's side, bearing a pistol.

Several gunshots sounded, coming from the Honda. Both occupants were thrown forward in the crash, but fortunately for them, the car's airbags deployed before they hit the steering wheel or dash. This left them dazed, but conscious, and now one of them had recovered sufficiently to fire on Bond.

Bond dived for the tarmac, dropping the flashlight and gripping his P99 in both hands. Rolling to his right, he recovered, raising himself on one knee, and fired four shots at the driver's side of the Honda, through the cracked side window. He heard a brief shout as the man dropped the pistol, and then someone cursed, "Oh, shit!"

Bond slowly rose to his feet, keeping his weapon trained on the car. "Out of the car!" he shouted. "Hands up!"

"Fuck that!" someone shouted in response. "Come and get me, asshole!"

Bond heard the man grunting with effort, and then the sound of someone falling to the ground. He must have crawled out of the car. Bond slowly approached the car's left side.

Then Bond saw Madlax run across the front of the car. The man on the right side of the car rose from his crouch, bearing a submachine gun. He turned, aiming the weapon at Madlax as she ran over to the kerb.

The man fired a burst from his weapon, narrowly missing Madlax as she took cover behind a tree. Bond lined up his sights and shot him in the head, and he collapsed back behind the car.

Bond cautiously approached the Honda, peering inside the driver's side front window. The man in the driver's seat was dead. Walking around the car, he checked the second man. Having been shot in the head, he, too, remained unmoving.

He turned to Madlax, who had emerged from behind the tree and was approaching the crashed car. "What the hell was that?" he shouted, glaring at her.

Madlax almost looked wounded by the question. "I thought you needed help."

"That was bloody stupid! You could have been killed!"

Madlax glared back. "You're welcome."

* * *

From the author: That's the car chase done. How did it go? As with the fight in the computer store, I wanted to have a detailed, blow-by-blow account, but hopefully I've also captured a sense of urgency and speed this time.

Madlax doesn't display her seemingly unerring accuracy with a pistol because in writing Madlax for this crossover, I've decided to try and tone her down to make her more realistic, something seen in chapter 2 in the convoy ambush. In that instance, she was taken by surprise while travelling in a convoy with friendly forces and civilians. Also, by the end of the series, it is established that she is mortal and can be injured, as opposed to her unnatural state late in the series, so she can't afford to be as 'cavalier' as she was in the series. (Rushing headlong into combat in the convoy attack also carried a risk of friendly fire, both to her and to the other mercenaries.)

Another thing to remember is that in this instance, she is a passenger in a moving vehicle that she isn't driving (I'm assuming that in the two instances where she is seen to be shooting while driving, she can somehow compensate for the car's movement because she is in control of it), so she isn't stable or in control of her movement relative to the target.

Thanks for reading – please leave feedback!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

* * *

The drive back into the city was blissfully uneventful. No other Enfant agents had approached them since the last car pursuing them had crashed.

Neither of them said anything. Several minutes went by.

Abruptly, Madlax broke the silence. "Mister Bond?" Madlax asked.

"Yes?" Bond risked a glance in her direction.

"What do we do now?"

Bond turned his attention back to the road. "This isn't your fight. I shouldn't have got you involved. Your job is finished."

Madlax shook her head. "I don't think so. This is exactly the sort of thing I was hired for."

"Things have gotten a lot more dangerous. I insist. Go home."

Madlax shook her head. "No."

No more words were exchanged. Madlax looked out the window at the scenery. They were currently driving in a residential area – houses lined the streets.

Realising something, she turned back to face Bond. "Back there, you called me Madlax. How did you know my name? I never told you."

Bond hesitated. She never told him her name, not once, during the entire nine days she had been with him. She didn't know he knew her name, either. Until now.

"I... found a picture of you on the Internet. On a news website. You were charged with the murder of a relative of the king."

"Right..."

While he had told her the truth, Bond could tell she wasn't buying it. Bond sighed.

He pulled over to the kerb and applied the electronic parking brake, then turned off the engine. He turned in his seat, looking her in the eyes.

"Madlax, it's time I told you the truth. I'm not a private investigator. I work for the British government. My investigation of Enfant is a response to... criminal activity in Europe undertaken by Enfant." _No need to tell her about the hackings._

Madlax showed no signs of surprise. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And the English man who was killed outside the hotel two weeks ago?"

"What I told you was true; he was investigating Enfant when he was killed. We believe his death was Enfant-related. And Chong was our main lead.

"Before Chong was killed, I learned that Enfant communications were going through Kozlowski. We suspect he is now head of the organisation."

"So... what now?"

"Like I said, your assignment is over. This isn't your fight. I can drop you off wherever you want. I'll pay you in cash right now, and I'll pay Three Speed any outstanding fees." He reached into his jacket for the small stack of bills from the casino.

Madlax shook her head. "Enfant are responsible for starting this civil war, and keeping it going as long as it did. They've killed a lot of innocent people while doing so.

"I want them gone as much as you do. I'm with you all the way."

Bond paused. Should he keep her around? He didn't want to involve a civilian in this way, but then again, she was stubborn. She just said she wanted in on any action he took against Enfant, so it would probably be even harder to dismiss her.

From what he had seen, she could probably handle herself in a fight, even though she had just recklessly run into a combat situation without a weapon. And even though he knew where he was going next, he could probably still use her as a guide.

Still, it was dangerous. They would be operating in enemy territory, cut off from help.

Bond mentally backpedalled; it was something she had just said. "What? You said Enfant _started _the civil war?"

Madlax nodded. "Yes. A few months ago, I discovered that Enfant has been supplying weapons to both the Kingdom Army _and _Galza. There have been rumours that Enfant was supplying the government with weapons, but Galza... that was a _real_ surprise."

Bond nodded. "So they've been selling weapons to both sides... and if the rumours are true about Enfant having influence in the military, then they stand to prolong the civil war and make a profit."

"Right," Madlax said. "Except, they were supplying weapons _for free."_

Bond blinked. _"What?_ Why?"

That made no sense. A faction supplying arms to a party engaged in conflict did so with the expectation of financial recompense and/or some sort of political influence. With their rumoured ties to the government, they had sway with the government and the military. Maybe the conflict would solidify their influence, but why bother maintaining the war for so long? Twelve years was a long time to commit materiel support to a conflict, especially if their arms sales didn't bear financial fruit, as Madlax had just indicated.

Maybe Madlax meant that both sides were getting _discounted_ weapons. Either way, it didn't make sense – Enfant would still be making a net loss.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Madlax replied.

"Humour me."

Madlax drew in a breath. Bond saw she was collecting her thoughts. "The truth is… Enfant wanted to maintain a state of chaos, of conflict.

"Their former leader, Friday Monday, was trying to gather three books. When the three books were brought together, they would give Enfant the power to unleash what he called the Essence. It would make people… act without restraint, without hesitation.

"The civil war was designed to maintain that environment of conflict while Enfant found the books."

Bond stared. That was arguably the craziest thing he had ever heard. While it somewhat explained the free weapons, it didn't make sense.

Now he was stuck with someone who was deluded as well as being a reckless gun for hire. Then again, this wasn't the first time he had encountered believers in the supernatural.

In the meantime, he needed to know more. Perhaps there was a nugget of truth in there somewhere.

"Did they find the books?"

"Yes, eventually. That was why they followed me into the jungle a few months ago. They thought I knew where one of the books could be found."

"Did you?"

"No."

"What else can you tell me about these books?"

"They were written by an ancient civilisation that used to live here in a language called Elies."

"El-ee-ess," Bond repeated slowly.

Madlax nodded. "Yes."

"So, what happened?"

"Friday is dead. The books were destroyed."

Bond nodded absently. "And the war continues."

Madlax nodded. "You can't get rid of twelve years of hatred overnight."

Bond nodded again. Was this Friday Monday, Enfant's former leader, the man who had been killed in the abandoned church? The one that had been burned to the ground a few months ago? If what Madlax said was true, it was possible he was, in fact, the last man, the one Matthews said remained unidentified.

For her part, Madlax seemed pretty sure of herself, as if she knew what she was talking about and hadn't just made up a story right then and there. It was possible, Bond thought, that she was right and Enfant's former leader had had an interest in the occult. And were those books there, too, in the old church when it was burned down?

This angle might be worth investigating.

"So... now what?" Madlax asked again.

"We'll be going up river," Bond said. "Start packing when we get back to the hotel."

"Up river?" Madlax asked.

"Yes. We've found that Enfant has a large communications hub in the jungle, just off the river."

Madlax paused for a second, then nodded. "I'll have to get some stuff from my apartment," she replied. "I'll be back at the hotel later tomorrow."

"Right." Bond looked back down to the controls and started the engine. "I'll drop you off there, then I'll head back to the hotel."

* * *

From the author: In 'creating' Bond and Madlax's relationship, I chose to base it on the relationship between Bond and Pam Bouvier in _Licence to Kill._

According to the data obtained from Bookwald servers by Vanessa and Badgis, Enfant was, in fact, supplying arms to the Kingdom Army and Galza for free. This struck Vanessa as odd, since in the same files, it is indicated that Enfant has significant sway with both parties (although she didn't know it, Friday Monday posed as Min Durk, the de facto leader of Galza, while Carrossea Doon is seen to be influencing the appointment of a new Army Commander after the death of Guen McNichol).

As I've written in the previous chapter, I'm attempting to make the _Madlax_ part of the story more 'down to earth' and 'realistic'. As well as making Madlax less accurate and a bit slower, I've deliberately avoided using the mysticism and fantasy elements from _Madlax_; however, the (partial) explanations of these elements are necessary for Bond as part of his being brought 'up to speed' with regard to Enfant.

Thanks for reading! Please continue to leave feedback!


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

* * *

Day 15

* * *

The phone rang. SSS heard it ring several times before Madlax picked up the phone. "Hello?" she asked.

"Madlax, it's me."

"Hello, Three Speed." Madlax sounded happy to hear from him.

"How's the assignment going?" SSS asked.

"Hmm." A verbal shrug. "Fine, I guess. How are you?"

"I'm alright. I heard about last night. A car chase through the city. Word is you were involved. That true?"

"Yes, it is."

"How's the client? Was Mister Bond with you?"

"He was there. He's ok."

"Good. What happened?"

"Well... we were going to investigate a lead, and on the way back, we were attacked by some of Enfant's men. We managed to lose them, though."

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Three Speed."

"Good. So, what's next?"

"I... I'm not sure. Just lay low, I guess."

Madlax had hesitated. She had been unsure what to say – either she did know and didn't want to say, or she genuinely didn't know what they would do next. What was Mister Bond up to?

Either way, SSS knew that Madlax could likely handle it. There were moments when he worried whether or not Madlax would be able to meet any challenges she came across, but he knew better – she was more than capable. After all, she had survived this long...

"That's good," SSS said. "Just keep doing what you're doing."

"Will do. Thanks, Three Speed."

"Good luck, Madlax. Bye."

"Bye."

SSS hung up and sighed. No sense worrying about it. Madlax could handle herself.

Walking out the window, he watched the passers-by in the street below as he leaned against the windowsill. In among the people on the street was a solitary cat, sitting there on the sidewalk on the other side of the road beside the door to a house, looking up at his window. The cat almost seemed to be looking directly at him.

Madlax had nicknamed it Mister Toodles.

* * *

Madlax returned to the Republic Hotel later that morning, bearing a large backpack and a cello case.

"A cello case?"Bond asked, eyeing the large plastic case. "Do you intend to play the cello on the boat?"

Madlax laid the case on the floor and opened it. Inside was a Remington M24 sniper rifle, a telescopic sight, a suppressor, two spare magazines, a box of ammunition, and a small pouch which Bond assumed contained equipment to clean and maintain the rifle.

Bond arched an eyebrow at the contents of the cello case. "That's original."

* * *

M reread the report emailed by Bond, which had come in late last night. He had managed to read it previously via his secure link to SIS servers at his house, but he wanted to read it again before issuing new orders.

It indicated that Bond had met with Kozlowski, and that he suspected that he was connected to Enfant, confirming the findings by the computer analysis team. After leaving the casino, they were attacked by several men in cars, although Bond managed to fight them off.

Bond had previously indicated he intended to investigate the suspected Enfant communications hub in the jungle after Chong had been taken into custody. This latest report stated that this would be his next course of action. Currently, he was awaiting the arrival of the Q-boat in order to proceed up the river.

While M had little patience for Bond's seemingly cavalier attitude and his shoot-from-the-hip, go-with-your-gut tendencies, he knew that when Bond was on to something, more often than not he had been proven right, as indicated by reports from his various missions.

And if Bond was right this time, M saw an opportunity to deal a major blow to Enfant's cybercrime capabilities. M arranged for a satellite to be retasked to observe that particular part of Gazth-Sonika, and extra weapons and equipment would accompany the boat to Gazth-Sonika, which was currently being prepared for departure. Computer analysts from intelligences agencies around the world were in the process of penetrating Enfant's computer network; having a man on the ground to physically access the computers would expedite the process considerably.

M sent a reply, agreeing with Bond's plan to investigate the communications centre in the jungle. Once inside, he was to access the servers and recover as much Enfant data as possible. If possible, Bond was to then disrupt operations as he saw fit in order to disable the communications facility, thus denying Enfant the use of a large portion of their computer infrastructure.

* * *

Bond closed the browser window and let out a sigh. The information he was able to obtain on Elies was scant at best. All that he was able to find on the Internet was that it was the name of an untranslated language originating in Gazth-Sonika, consisting of written characters found in cave paintings and on scraps of parchment.

Work on Elies had been limited to photographs of these samples due to the civil war, which made accessing archaeological sites next to impossible. No one knew what the words meant or even how they were pronounced. Elies was considered a dead language.

Bond didn't want to end this line of investigation just yet. There was one more source he could try.

* * *

The phone rang. Lucille Fontaine turned from her computer and glanced at the phone. A private call; no number was displayed.

She frowned, picking up the phone. "Doctor Fontaine."

"Lucille?" A man's voice, with a British accent.

"Yes?" The voice wasn't familiar. _Who could it be?_

"I'm not sure if you'll remember me. James Bond, here. We met about a month or so ago. How are you?"

Lucille's eyes widened and her pulse quickened. _This was a surprise._ She hadn't expected him to call her back. "Oh… I'm fine. How are you?"

"Alright."

"It's been a while, James."

"I know. I need a favour."

"So, what can I do for you, Mister Bond?" A faint smile tugged at Lucille's lips. She fondly recalled the time they had had sex in her office...

"Information on Elies. I understand you're one of the world's foremost experts on the topic."

Lucille raised an eyebrow. "Elies, eh? Why do you ask?"

"I… came across a reference to it in some old documents."

"Ok…" Lucille drew in a breath. "What would you like to know?"

"Everything you know."

"Ok, then. Well… it's written by an ancient civilisation that used to live in Gazth-Sonika, in south Asia, identified in some cave paintings and old documents found at several sites throughout the country. They're believed to date from before the time of Christ.

"The writing is believed to be from a previously undiscovered ancient civilisation, but so far, no other traces of that civilisation have been found."

"Anything else?" Bond asked.

"Not a whole lot. Not much work has been done on Elies, because of the war. We haven't been able to access sites where more writings can be found, because of the fighting in the jungle.

"To date, no one in the world has been able to translate Elies. We don't even know how the words are pronounced, so we have no idea what this language sounded like. Unless we find a Rosetta Stone-style document or tablet with multiple languages, or find someone in Gazth-Sonika who can read and translate it, we won't know what the documents and paintings actually say."

"Right. I tried looking for Elies on the Internet, without luck. I was hoping you could tell me something those websites couldn't."

"Yeah, not much out there. Sorry I couldn't help."

"That's ok."

Lucille paused for a second. "You know, it's funny; some say Elies is jinxed."

"Jinxed?"

"Yeah. There was a professor, the head of a research team that went to Gazth-Sonika to study the cave paintings. He was the only survivor after the team was attacked in the cave. The professor later committed suicide. He took his whole family with him.

"A few months ago, someone went to Gazth-Sonika looking for information on Elies. He... he was found dead at the bottom of a cliff."

"I see. Any other talk of ancient curses or spells?"

She frowned to herself. "Hmmm. Not really, not as far as we know, jinxes notwithstanding. Then again, like I said, we haven't been able to translate anything."

"I see." Lucille thought she could hear a hint of disappointment in Bond's voice. He sighed audibly, and there was a brief pause before he spoke again. "Has anyone else showed any interest in Elies?"

"What do you mean?"

"Any private collectors? Anyone not associated with a university or museum?"

"Well..." Lucille thought back to Eric. Distractedly, she looked out the window. "There was one guy, a few months ago. The one who... who was found dead in the jungle. He was looking for a book."

"A book? In Elies?"

"Yes."

"What for?"

"I don't know. He was a bibliodetective – one of those people who specialise in tracking down obscure books and other printed materials. It was for a client of his."

"Alright." Bond sighed again.

This was odd. "Why the sudden interest?" Lucille asked, saying aloud the question that came to mind.

"Oh, just curious."

Lucille raised an eyebrow. It seemed he didn't want to answer.

She started to wonder how to get an answer out of him. "I see," she finally replied, slowly.

"Yes, that's right." Bond paused. "Well, thanks. I owe you one."

Lucille smiled to herself. "Yes, you do. I think... dinner should cover this."

"I know. Next time I drop by."

"Will there _be_ a next time?" she asked.

"Of course. Well, I've got to go. Bye."

"Bye." Lucille hung up, setting the handset back in its cradle. She looked down at the silent device for a second. _Just what was that about?_

She sighed and picked up the handset again, looking over at her monitor. The university's phone directory was open in a window; she was about to make a phone call when Bond called.

She dialled I.T. support's help centre. The stupid printer wasn't working.

* * *

Bond hung up, terminating the call on his mobile phone. He looked out over the balcony at the cityscape.

Between his brief Internet search and what Lucille had just told him, he had found out that Elies was a real language that had been formerly used in Gazth-Sonika, so Madlax had not been lying about that part. And Lucille said Elies was jinxed... how interesting.

Interesting, yes, but currently irrelevant. He wanted to know more about the book. Anything Enfant was interested in was worth investigating.

Bond dialled Matthews' number at the embassy.

He picked up after two rings. "Will Matthews, visa inquiries."

"Hello. Bond here."

"James? What can I do for you?"

"I need you to track down some information about a Nafrecian man who died a few months ago in Gazth-Sonika."

"Do you have a name?" Matthews asked.

"No. I couldn't get a name." Lucille didn't know that he worked for the British government; to ask for the man's name would have aroused her suspicion, if his questions hadn't already. "He was found in the jungle, at the base of a cliff, a few months ago."

"Will do. Without a name, this may take some time, though. What's so special about this guy?"

"He was a dealer in antiquities. He was looking for a book for a client in Nafrece."

"What's so special about this book?"

"Enfant were after it. I want to know why."

* * *

Day 16

* * *

The marina occupied a small part of the bay, its two wharves jutting out into the water. Although there were many boats tied to the wharves, there were very few people here today.

Bond parked the rental car, a Ford Focus, on the road that ran parallel to the water. He disembarked and took a bag from inside the boot. Madlax retrieved her cello case out from the back seat.

Madlax turned and looked briefly at the various shopfronts that lined the road they had parked on. She paid particular attention to an ice cream store along the road. Several adults were clustered around it, forming a queue. At least one was accompanied by children.

Madlax looked longingly at the ice cream store, watching a woman walk away with a cone with two scoops of ice cream on it. "Hmm... ice cream..."

"Madlax?" Bond asked.

"Oh, sorry." Madlax tore herself away from the sight of the ice cream store and followed Bond down the sidewalk.

* * *

There were two wharves, jutting out west into the water from the east side of the bay, like the prongs of a tuning fork. One was connected to the harbour at the north, and one at the south. Boats of varying sizes were moored to both wharves.

Madlax followed Bond as he walked along the bay to the south wharf. He walked past the various boats, all of them tied with their sterns against the wharf, their bows pointed away.

Moored at the very end of the wharf on the south side was a sleek powered boat. Painted forest green and dark grey, it stood out from the other boats, which all featured white in their colour schemes. This proved to be the only significant outward difference; it was otherwise unremarkable.

Like some of the other boats, it had a small cabin-like structure – raised walls – and a curved windscreen to protect the console and its operator from splashing water. On the deck behind was a small bench for whoever was operating the vessel to sit on. It wasn't very big; Madlax figured it was ten metres long, maybe a bit more.

Madlax saw two men by the green and black boat: one on the boat itself, the other on the wharf. The one on the boat was a man in his late twenties to early thirties, who appeared to be checking equipment loaded on the boat in various bags and small crates. The other was older, in his seventies, and he flicked through what looked like some sort of operating manual as he sat on a folding chair at the wharf. Both wore Hawaiian floral print shirts. The younger one wore a green cap, while the older one wore a straw hat.

"Morning, Q," Bond said, greeting the older man.

"Morning, Double-oh-seven," the old man said in a British accent, looking up from his magazine and rising to his feet.

"Q, this is Madlax," Bond said, gesturing to her. "She's my guide. Madlax, this is Q."

"A pleasure to meet you, my dear," the old man apparently named Q said, taking her gloved hand in a gentle handshake. Releasing her hand, Q turned to the younger man on the boat. "Is everything loaded, Adam?"

"That's right, Q," the man on the boat replied, also with a British accent. "Everything's on the boat. I was doing some last-minute checks on everything."

"Good," Q said, nodding. "Please carry on."

Q turned back to Bond. "All your equipment is already loaded on board. Shall we?"

All three of them walked down to the boat. A wide plank propped on the wharf and the boat itself at opposite ends served as a gangway to board the vessel. Q gestured for Madlax to board first, so she did, smiling politely at Q. Q followed her aboard, then Bond. The boat rocked gently in the calm water.

"Now pay attention, Double-oh-seven," Q said, as he set foot on the deck. He then gestured for Bond to follow him over to the controls of the boat and started pointing to the console, setting the manual on the dash. Every now and then, he pointed to other parts of the boat as he spoke. Standing where she was, Madlax couldn't make out what he was saying, but Bond visibly nodded every few seconds.

* * *

Madlax set the cello case on the deck and looked with fascination at the equipment on the boat that hadn't been packed. She was somewhat familiar with the weapons and equipment used by the Kingdom Army, but this stuff was in another league. The equipment she could see, the stuff that wasn't packed in cases or bags, looked cutting-edge, and it probably was. A lot of the equipment looked brand new.

She'd heard the expression 'like a kid in a candy store' before, and this, she thought, was it. The only other thing she could compare it to was the pasta shelves at the supermarket.

She looked over at the younger man, the one named Adam. He seemed to be fiddling with a black plastic device that had an antenna sticking up from one side. She flashed him a friendly smile. He turned red.

"Can I see that?" she asked him, gesturing to the device in his hands.

"Um... no." He held the device to his chest. "It's sensitive instrumentation."

"Can you at least show it to me?"

"Um... no. Sorry."

"Ok," she said, nodding. She smiled politely. Adam nodded and turned the device over in his hands.

While he started fiddling with the device again, Madlax turned her attention to a bulky handheld radio sitting on top of a plastic crate. The device had an outer casing of olive drab plastic, with several controls and a LCD. She turned it on and cycled through the spectrum of frequencies the radio was capable of receiving. The numbers showing the frequency on the radio's LCD scrolled as she cycled through the range. There was mostly static, but she occasionally heard voices.

"Sorry, I'll have to take that." Madlax turned to see Adam, hand outstretched. "I spent two hours checking over all this equipment when we loaded it. Please don't... mess with it."

"Ok..." Madlax handed over the radio. Adam set it on a bench and turned his attention back to the first device.

She turned to a hard green plastic case, one of several lying on the boat's deck. She squatted alongside it and opened the lid.

Inside was a pair of Heckler and Koch G36K carbines lying in moulded foam, one with an underslung grenade launcher. Neither rifle had a magazine inserted.

She knew about the G36 rifles, and had seen them once or twice (she had even been shot at with them), but she had never used one before. Madlax lowered one knee to rest on it and picked up the rifle with the grenade launcher, hefting it as she turned it over in her hands. "Hmmm..."

"Um... miss... please don't touch that," she heard Adam say. She ignored him, flicking the fire selector to automatic fire with her thumb, feeling the movement of the lever.

"Miss..."

* * *

"Now, I know what happened to the Land Rover, and I know I say this often, but please try to bring some of this equipment back in pristine order." Hearing his assistant, Q turned to him, then to Madlax. "Now, miss, please put that weapon back."

Madlax's eyes widened with the rebuke. She nodded and gingerly returned the G36K to the crate. She returned the fire selector to the safe position and closed the crate.

Satisfied, Q turned back to Bond and resumed his conversation. Adam turned his attention back to the device in his hands, but now he glanced up at Madlax every few seconds.

* * *

Curiosity got the better of Madlax again. She carefully picked up a second long, thin case and set it on top of the case containing the G36Ks. Opening it, she saw a bolt-action sniper rifle of a type she was sure she had seen before, but never in person. The rifle's make and model eluded her right now.

Set into the foam alongside it were three magazines, a telescopic sight, and a large night vision scope.

* * *

Having finished with the device he was checking, a GPS navigator, Adam set it aside and turned to the handheld radio, picking it up. He looked up at Madlax again... to see her going through the contents of another case.

* * *

"...and you also have an Accuracy International Arctic Warfare Magnum sniper rifle, in three-three-eight Lapua Magnum calibre," Q said, gesturing in Madlax's direction. Turning, he saw her pluck the night vision scope from the opened case, just as Adam, now also looking in her direction, was about to speak.

He promptly reached out and snatched the scope from her hands. "I already told you, please don't touch things!" he admonished her. "This is precision equipment, and some of it is dangerous!"

Madlax looked up at him, wide-eyed and repentant.

Bond raised an eyebrow. "Being a bit hard on her, aren't you, Q?" he asked, as he took the night vision scope from Q's hands and inspected it.

"Well, perhaps I am, Double-oh-seven," Q replied, "but that doesn't mean it's alright for her to fiddle about with dangerous equipment." Turning back to Madlax, he saw her looking up at him with widened, puppy-dog eyes. "Oh, stop it!"

* * *

Madlax bowed her head in contrition and turned away. Hearing Q continue talking to Bond, she promptly bent over and picked up a small satchel that had been lying next to the crates. Opening it, she found inside a pair of night vision goggles, which she took out.

A hand came out of nowhere, accompanied by the sound of a man clearing his throat. Madlax turned to see Adam, arm outstretched. His expression said 'hand it over'. She sighed and handed over the night vision goggles.

Having relinquished the goggles, she turned back to Bond and Q. Both men were seated on the bench in front of a stack of equipment.

Q was holding up a small black object with an antenna sticking out of it. "This is a portable satellite transceiver. You can use it as part of a wireless relay system to transmit and receive data, like the pen transceiver." He held up a silver pen before setting it down on the bench.

Madlax picked up the pen. "This is a receiver?" She found it hard to believe there was a wireless receiver in there.

Q snatched the pen from her grip. "I already told you, don't touch things!"

"But... it's not dangerous. Is it?"

"No, but it's expensive. Please keep your hands to yourself." With this admonition, Madlax hung her head for a few seconds.

Q then held up something that looked like a folded compact umbrella. "This is a transceiver antenna, also capable of acting as part of a relay system." He opened the device – the resultant opened dish looked like an opened umbrella – and set it down on the deck so that the central shaft and concave dish faced the sky. "Use this if the compact system can't pick up a signal."

Madlax cocked her head as she silently regarded the new device. "It looks like an umbrella," she said absently.

* * *

About half an hour later, Q had finished debriefing Bond on the various devices loaded on the boat. For her part, Madlax occupied herself with keeping an eye on people passing by.

Q and Adam had since disembarked from the boat and stood on the wharf, looking down at them. Adam tossed the rope mooring the boat to the wharf onto the boat's deck.

"Good luck, Double-oh-seven," Q said.

Bond nodded and waved. "Thanks, Q," he called out, before starting the boat's engine and gunning the throttle. Bond turned sharply to starboard as the boat left its mooring, spraying the men on the wharf with water.

* * *

From the author: Lucille appears in episodes 7 and 8 of _Madlax._ She is employed by Sodolphine University in Nafrece, presumably in a linguistics department or school. She is Eric Gillain's ex-girlfriend, and was contacted by an unnamed person regarding him while Eric was in Gazth-Sonika, after which she was never seen or mentioned again. Lucille was never given a surname, so I 'gave' her one.

Eric's casual, almost sarcastic greeting of 'learned scholar' implied a doctorate or at least a master's degree, so I gave her the title of Doctor.

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	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

* * *

It had been a little over an hour since the Q-boat had left the marina, and the ride up the river was thus far uneventful.

The concrete and suburban housing that lined the river banks had long since given way to jungle. Trees grew on either side of the river, the branches hanging over the water. The water itself was slightly tinged with brown, but was otherwise clear. Every now and then, a lone fish could be seen in the water.

There was no wind. The water was calm, disrupted only by the waves thrown up by the Q-boat. The water hissed as a spray was thrown up on either side of the boat.

The river's width varied; twenty metres at its widest, narrowing to four in some areas. The river branched every now and then, but Bond followed the course set forth by the GPS navigator set into the console.

* * *

Her hair lifted slightly from the air rushing past the boat, Madlax had taken the opportunity to go through all of the equipment Q and Adam had brought for Bond. In addition to the three rifles, there were, amongst other things, several full magazines, a spare Walther P99, a set of attachments for the G36Ks (suppressors, optional sights, and what looked like a laser sight), a Remington 870 pump-action shotgun, several different grenades, more radios, shotgun shells, GPS navigators, beacons, a laptop, binoculars, a spotting scope, flares, flashlights, rations, full canteens, claymores, water purification tablets, first aid kits, a needle and thread, a miniature electric stove, camouflage paint, sunscreen, spare socks, insect repellent, matches, two cigarette lighters, detonators, detcord, some computer devices with USB plugs on them, and ten C4 demolition blocks.

She looked over at him, eyes narrowed. Clad in striped green camouflage fatigues, Bond was manning the boat's controls, gently turning the boat's steering wheel in time with the arrival of the gentle bends in the river.

She had suspected there was something about him within a couple of days of her taking on this assignment. Something in his eyes, a certain... intensity. His clothes, his taste in food and alcohol, his sophistication, it all seemed to be a front for something. There was more to him than 'just' the private investigator who just so happened to have good taste. But she hadn't known what to make of it, so he had held her interest, even though he treated her with condescension.

She wasn't entirely surprised to find he was actually a government spy. The way he had conducted himself implied some sort of professional government or military training. His low opinion of her and her abilities, which still kind of bugged her, made a bit more sense, at least; he was looking at her from the point of view of years of training and experience (she figured he was about forty). She must look like an amateur to him.

Although she would never admit it, she wanted his approval, his respect. (Not that she _needed_ it – she had a reputation as one of the best mercenaries in the country; his opinion, or the opinion of any other client, wouldn't change that.) The approval of a _real_ professional would be something like a validation or confirmation of her abilities.

And she sensed that he was starting to see her for what she really was – a skilled combatant, if not a professional, and as such, he had started to show respect for her, if reluctantly; he still came across as a bit... cool.

* * *

Madlax walked over to Bond. "Why are there so many explosives?"

"I've been issued new orders," Bond replied without turning to face her. "We'll destroy any computer and communication systems we find. This'll set back Enfant considerably."

_They were going to destroy Enfant's equipment? _"Not that I have a problem with that, but I thought we were just investigating."

Bond turned to face her. "And pass up an opportunity to disrupt a major criminal organisation's operations?" he asked sardonically.

Madlax shrugged. "Can't argue with that." Nor did she want to.

There was nothing more to say at that point. However, a new voice would break the silence. "Ahoy there!" came a male voice on a megaphone.

Both of them turned. A patrol boat was pulling in behind them, having emerged from a side branch in the river. The patrol boat was painted olive drab, and unlike theirs, it had a partially enclosed cabin with a roof.

There were five men on board, one of whom was manning what looked like a Browning M2 .50 calibre machine gun mounted amidships. Someone in the cabin raised a mouthpiece to their lips.

"You are entering a restricted area. Power down and prepare to be boarded."

Bond ignored the directive. He turned back to his boat's bow and pushed the throttle slightly higher. Madlax heard the engine grow slightly louder.

The man repeated his command. "This is a restricted area. Power down and prepare to be boarded. Have your hands above your heads."

Bond did not look back at the patrol boat. Nor did he power down the boat's engine.

A burst of automatic fire rang out over their heads. Both of them turned to see a man standing on the patrol boat's deck, in front of the cabin, with a rifle in hand.

"Power down and prepare to be boarded. This is your final warning."

Bond replied by further inching the throttle lever forward.

A deeper, louder sound came from behind them. Bond turned to see the man on the 50-cal fire a burst over their heads. He levelled the machine gun at them.

Bond pushed the throttle to maximum a second before he swerved to starboard. Immediately the Q-boat swung to the right, taking them out of the machine gunner's line of fire. For the moment, he wouldn't be able to shoot them without hitting his boat's own cabin, but the infantryman standing on the boat's bow with the assault rifle had no such problems.

Turning back to the boat's console, Bond pressed a recessed button. A green HUD immediately appeared on the windscreen in front of him, and a new console and a pair of touch-screen displays emerged from their concealment within the dashboard. One screen showed a 360° radar display, while the other showed a menu. The radar display showed the patrol boat behind them as a glowing dot.

As Bond pressed another button, a panel on the deck running part of the deck's width slid aside, and a large machine gun emerged on a jointed stand, stopping when the gun was a little over a metre above the deck. Madlax recognised it as a M2 .50 calibre machine gun, like the one on the other boat, but this one had a strange metal housing surrounding the handles, as well as what looked like a camera mounted on top and a shortened barrel.

The metal housing included a pair of bars that were attached to the twin charging handles on the M2. The bars cycled the charging handles back and forth, chambering a round. Madlax heard the whirring of electric motors.

"It's set to manual," Bond said. "Open fire!"

The new metal housing had a pair of plastic-covered handles on it that corresponded to the M2's normal handles, the right one bearing a trigger. She gripped them, stepped to the side as she turned the gun in the direction of the pursuing boat, and opened fire.

Casings and links from the ammunition belt flew from the machine gun as it fired. The bullets struck the patrol boat, splintering the glass of the cabin. The man standing on the boat's bow dived, lying face down on the boat. The machine gunner abandoned his position, likewise diving for the boat's deck. The glass surrounding the boat's cabin splintered under the onslaught, leaving jagged pieces attached to the window frame.

Madlax adjusted her aim, firing on the boat's hull just above the waterline. Empty casings and links continued to fly from the machine gun, starting to form two discrete piles on the Q-boat's deck. The large rounds now tore into the hull, leaving gaping holes. The patrol boat slowed, then stopped completely. After a few more seconds, Madlax stopped firing; the patrol boat was taking on water.

The Q-boat continued upstream at speed, leaving the damaged and now sinking patrol boat behind. It could no longer pursue them, but the infantryman on the bow resumed fire, to little effect. Nonetheless, Madlax ducked behind the 50-cal as he fired.

She straightened as the Q-boat continued away from the patrol boat. "That'll do it for now," Madlax declared, abandoning the 50-cal and walking back over to Bond. "They're not following us."

Bond nodded in acknowledgement. "Good work."

Another dot appeared on the radar screen as Bond slowed the Q-boat to turn a bend in the river. As soon as they cleared the bend, Madlax saw that ahead, another patrol boat was bearing down on them. Fast.

"Want me to get back on the gun?" Madlax asked as she narrowed her eyes at the oncoming patrol boat.

"Not just yet," Bond replied. He increased the throttle ever so slightly, and then pressed another button. A pair of green crosshairs appeared on his HUD.

Unseen by Madlax, a pair of panels on both sides of the bow slid backwards, revealing a pair of gun muzzles. Bond depressed a button set into the boat's steering wheel, and Madlax heard the machine guns opened fire, spitting 7.62mm rounds at the oncoming boat.

The rounds, while not as large or heavy as the .50 calibre rounds fired by the M2, nonetheless promptly cut into the metal and glass of the oncoming boat. The man at the helm was forced to break off in order to avoid further damage. While taking him out of Bond's line of fire, this also had the effect of changing his patrol boat's angle relative to the Q-boat, clearing his gunner to fire the 50-cal.

Bond gritted his teeth and ducked behind the console. "Get down!"

Gunfire struck their boat, one round cracking the Q-boat's bullet-resistant windscreen with a glancing shot. Bond dived for the boat's deck as the two boats came alongside each other.

Madlax fell to a crouch and whipped out a P210 from inside her flight jacket. As they passed the other boat, Madlax rose to her feet and brought her weapon to bear, swinging it up and around.

She fired two shots – one at the boat's driver and one at the 50-cal gunner.

Both struck home. The boat's driver took a round in the chest and slumped over the wheel, while the gunner, also shot in the chest, crumpled to the deck.

Folding her arm, her P210 pointed up, Madlax watched silently, turning on her heel as the patrol boat continued straight even as one of the other three soldiers on the boat pushed the driver's body aside to try to regain control. The patrol boat plowed into the muddy banks of the river at a shallow angle, where it slowed considerably. Satisfied, she turned around again to face Bond.

Turning his attention from the errant patrol boat, Bond stared at her as he pulled himself up to his feet. "What was that?" he asked her, an expression of disbelief on his face.

"I shot him," Madlax replied indifferently, looking down at him, her eyes staying on his as he rose.

Bond appeared frustrated or irritated. He looked as if he was about to speak, but just sighed and turned back to the controls. He steered the Q-boat to port, narrowly avoiding crashing into a tree growing by the riverbank.

Something exploded on the shore to starboard almost right in front of them. Both of them ducked instinctively, bending their knees, and turned.

The explosion had sent up smoke and clumps of dirt, and an adjacent tree was falling inland. They couldn't see what had triggered it.

Then they turned their attention to port.

A squad of Kingdom Army soldiers, split up into two four-man fireteams, had taken up positions along the banks of the river twenty metres away. The men had positioned themselves such that they could easily duck behind rocks or trees as necessary. One man in each fireteam was armed with an RPG-7; the rest were using assault rifles.

A few seconds after the first RPG was fired, the second RPG launcher was fired, followed by bursts of automatic fire from the rest of the squad.

Bond pushed the throttle lever up to maximum. The Q-boat shot forward as the second RPG flew towards them. The projectile actually scraped against the boat's bow, leaving bare metal exposed. The RPG exploded against the shore behind them, felling a tree.

With the RPG attack ineffective, the rest of the squad opened fire.

The boat was struck by 5.56mm rounds from the soldiers' rifles. While several men scored direct hits, they merely bounced off the armoured boat.

They had to do something, she thought.

"I'll return fire," Madlax declared. She holstered her P210 as she quickly stepped over to the M2 and swivelled it to port. As she swung the weapon, for just a second, Madlax recalled Elenore Baker stepping up to another 50-cal on another patrol boat and laying down suppressive fire on a fireteam on the banks of a river.

She opened fire on the soldiers as the boat approached. The heavy rounds threw up small clouds of dirt as they struck the ground. Trees were splintered, leaving jagged holes in their trunks.

The soldiers dived for cover as Madlax opened up with the 50-cal, ducking behind trees, rocks or going straight down to the ground to present a smaller target. Three were killed instantly, taking hits in their torsos. The rest lay prone on the riverbank to avoid being shot.

Madlax managed to shoot two more men as they lay there as the Q-boat passed their position.

More gunfire, once again from behind. Bullets struck the Q-boat's stern or splashed into the water on either side of the Q-boat. Madlax turned around, and saw that the second patrol boat had returned, now bearing a large mud smear running along the port side where it had scraped against the riverbank. Of the three remaining crew, one man knelt on the bow, firing his FAMAS, the second manned the controls, and the third had taken one of the dead soldiers' place on the 50-cal.

Madlax swung the 50-cal to stern.

"Don't worry about that," Bond said. Madlax released the M2, turned to face him, and saw he was entering a command into the console, pressing options on the touch-screen menu. There was another dot on the radar screen, indicating another oncoming boat, but Madlax turned again, as she heard a soft whirring coming from the stern.

A panel opened on either side of the outboard motor, and a pair of mines was dispensed into the water. Floating on the surface, the mines bobbed up and down with the waves created by the Q-boat's passing. Briefly eyeing the dispensed explosives, Madlax grabbed the M2's handles again, pointing the machine gun at the nearing boat.

The second patrol boat sped towards them, passing between the two floating mines.

Both mines promptly exploded.

The two explosions damaged both sides of the boat, crumpling the metal and throwing up water in a pair of white, foamy plumes that flanked the patrol boat. The man on the bow was thrown forward into the water, while the man at the boat's controls was killed almost instantly. The third man dived off the stern.

Madlax turned to face the bow. Ahead, a third patrol boat was bearing down on their position.

Bond pressed another button on the weapons console.

Another panel on the boat's bow slid aside, this time revealing a small torpedo nestled in a tube. The red box superimposed on the approaching boat on the HUD turned red, and a tone sounded. Bond pressed a trigger button on the steering wheel, and the torpedo shot out of the tube.

The torpedo splashed and quickly submerged about a foot under the water. A second after it hit the water, its internal propulsion system activated, and the torpedo sped towards the third boat. Fins fitted to the torpedo's rear steered it towards the patrol boat.

The torpedo detonated as it hit the bow, coming up to attack just below the boat's waterline. The front third of the boat was blown apart in the explosion, once again sending water flying. Pieces of metal flew away from the boat, splashing into the river.

What remained of the boat quickly came to a halt in the water even as it started to sink. The five soldiers manning the boat abandoned ship, diving into the river and swimming for the shores.

Madlax drew a P210, holding the weapon at her side as she eyed the soldiers swimming towards the bank of the river. As they were, they represented no threat, and so she didn't fire on them.

Holstering her P210, Madlax looked over at the radar screen on the boat's dash. Save for the two receding dots behind them, it was blank. No more boats.

"Hopefully, that's all of them," Madlax offered as she stepped over to Bond.

"Hopefully," Bond replied. "But now they know we're coming. We need to keep moving."

The Q-boat sped past the ruined patrol boat, continuing upriver.

* * *

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	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

* * *

Bond steered the Q-boat towards the north bank of the river, swinging the bow back to face the direction they came from. He then manoeuvred the boat to come in parallel to the river bank. The port side gently scraped against the mud.

Once the engine was powered down, Madlax jumped off the boat with the mooring rope and tied the boat to a nearby tree trunk.

Bond spent the next twenty minutes selecting and packing the equipment they would take with them. Since it was unclear what exactly Bond would need for this operation, he had been furnished with a broad spectrum of weapons and equipment. As it was mid-afternoon, with the sun lowering in the sky, Bond had decided to proceed north for a couple of hours, make camp, and continue the rest of the way to the communications hub at first light.

After helping Bond offload the equipment, Madlax took her M24 sniper rifle out of the cello case and slung it over her shoulder. She then took the rest of the cello case's contents and loaded them into one of the two backpacks Bond had prepared.

Bond produced a camouflage net and threw it over the Q-boat. After spending another minute adjusting and straightening it, they left the river and headed north, guided by Bond's handheld GPS navigator.

* * *

The jungle was warm, not too humid. Fortunately, the vegetation wasn't so thick that traversing the terrain was difficult; it was easy enough for them to forge a path between the trees.

In the distance, they heard a muffled explosion, and the faint, distant sound of gunfire, which had put them on edge initially; however, given how faint it sounded, they decided they were in no immediate danger, and it was best to press on.

The jungle was relatively quiet. There were birds, but they hardly made any noise. Insects chirped and buzzed every now and then. The odd lizard crawled away into the undergrowth as they approached.

They were not accosted by either Kingdom Army patrols or bands of Galza rebels. A single helicopter gunship buzzed overhead after about half an hour's worth of walking; however, the gunship was moving swiftly over the trees, implying it was headed somewhere else and not searching for them. It was, therefore, the first and only time they had sought cover since leaving the boat.

All the while, neither of them said a word.

* * *

Two hours passed since they left the boat. The sun was still setting, the sky taking on an orange tinge. The jungle around them began to darken.

Eventually, Bond and Madlax came to a small clearing in the jungle, where the trees were significantly shorter on the periphery, as if they had been clipped or cut and allowed to grow back.

Occupying the clearing was a plane wreck. A small passenger jet.

The wreck had been in place for several years; vines were growing over parts of the fuselage, and small seedlings grew close to the plane itself. Some of the paint had worn away, revealing dull aluminium underneath. Behind the plane was what was left of a wide, shallow furrow that the plane had plowed into the earth when it crashed, which corresponded with the shorter trees.

Bond motioned for Madlax to stop. She nodded and crouched, pulling the M24 from her shoulder, unfolding the bipod, and resting it on the ground. She shuffled and lay on her stomach, wrapping her right hand around the grip and looking through the telescopic sight.

He pulled a pair of compact binoculars from a vest pocket and looked around the clearing through them.

They were looking at the plane from behind. The plane had been torn in two in the crash, with the tail, nearest to them, resting several metres away from the rest of the fuselage. The sharp, jagged edges of the torn fuselage were softened with years of exposure to the elements. As the plane had gouged a furrow into the earth, he estimated a little under a metre of it was actually buried. Partially rotted passenger seats and luggage in the cargo compartment were visible in the forward section of fuselage – where vines hadn't grown over them.

Bond's first question was why it hadn't been spotted in satellite photos. A second later, he had his answer: with branches from nearby trees growing out over the clearing, and with vines growing over the plane itself, it had probably not been readily visible in satellite photos if someone wasn't looking specifically for it.

Bond pocketed the binoculars, raised his carbine and slowly swept it around the clearing. Nothing.

He turned to Madlax. "Cover me."

She nodded. Bond slowly left the treeline, walking in towards the downed aircraft from its right.

Slowly walking alongside the plane, he saw that the right wing had apparently been clipped in the crash, as its tip was missing, leaving torn metal.

Several windows along the fuselage were either fogged or cracked. A couple were broken open, leaving jagged shards in the frames.

The cockpit windscreens had been cracked, but were still present. The nose was crumpled, paint scraped away on and around areas where the metal was damaged.

The left wing had been shorn free from the main body of the plane. One of the doors had been left open. Bond regarded it for a second before continuing back around.

He eventually returned to Madlax's position. While surveying the wreckage wasn't part of his mission, curiosity had got the better of him. "There's a door open. I'm going to take a look inside," Bond said to her. Madlax nodded wordlessly, looking back into the jungle before she pulled herself up to a crouch.

Bond walked back along the left side of the front section of fuselage until he came back to the opened door, which he then cautiously approached. At a little under three feet, the bottom of the opening was too high for him to step up into; he would have to pull himself up in order to enter the plane.

He studied the opening carefully as he walked up to it; no signs of traps. To be sure, he stopped short of entering, looking around and immediately inside the opening. Satisfied there were no traps, he reached up and slid his G36K into the door, then pulled himself up and into the plane.

Picking up his weapon, Bond cast his eyes around the interior. Vines had grown around some of the walls, even growing in through some broken windows and small gaps in the hull. With the exception of more vines and the odd insect, the seats were empty – any bodies were long gone. His eyes swept the floor and seats, looking for trip wires. Nothing.

He reached up and opened an overhead storage compartment, one of several that didn't have a vine growing over it. It opened easily; inside was a black backpack, still intact, the zippers closed.

Bond had estimated that the wreck had been in place for at least five years, but this changed when he opened a purse that had been lying next to one of the seats. Gently prodding it with his booted foot to check if any animals were nesting inside, he picked it up and emptied it onto the floor. A wallet, a case for glasses, lipstick, a compact, an airline ticket and a set of keys fell out.

Crouching over the fallen contents, Bond picked up the airline ticket; the ink was faded, unreadable. Next, he picked up and opened the cracked leather wallet.

According to the name on the cards within, the wallet had belonged to a Nafrecian named Charlotte Rosseau. The driver's licence expired nine years ago, and one of the credit cards had expired eleven years ago.

Bond wondered how this wreck could last ten years, probably more, without being discovered. Surely, a search and rescue team would have found it long before now and cleaned out the contents. Presumably, government resources had been diverted towards the war effort, but still... ten years was a long time.

* * *

Madlax blinked. As she silently looked at the wreck in the orange light from the setting sun, she set her M24 down on the ground and allowed her backpack to fall from her back to the ground.

She realised what she was looking at.

This was the plane she – no, Margaret – had been flying on nearly thirteen years ago. The one that had crashed in the jungle, leaving Margaret and the boy named Poupee alone.

She still had fragments of Margaret's early childhood memories; she recalled wandering around the plane wreck until she finally came across the still form of her mother.

She remembered trying to awaken her, and failing.

She recalled running into the forest with Poupee, trying to avoid armed men patrolling the jungle.

Madlax felt her eyes fill with tears.

She was dimly aware of Bond as he walked up to her from her left. "We're losing daylight. We can either press on for a bit longer, or just camp here for the night. Tomorrow we'll continue north to the facility."

She heard him walk over a bit faster. Perhaps he had seen her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concern visible on his angular features as he moved in front of her and she slowly turned to face him.

"I... I've been here before," Madlax replied hesitantly.

"What do you mean?" Bond asked as he stopped about a metre away.

"I... I was on this plane." Madlax nodded at the wreck. "I remember it. A lot of people died here. My... mother... she died here."

"I'm sorry. If you think we should camp somewhere else – "

Madlax shook her head as she sniffed. "No. It's fine. We can stay here."

* * *

They camped for the night under the remains of the left wing.

A small, portable, battery-powered stove provided heat for their rehydrated meals – a fire would have produced visible light that could be spotted by a patrol.

After setting up the satellite transceiver, Bond powered up his laptop and logged on to the secure SIS online messaging system. He had a new email from Matthews, sent about half an hour ago.

The man who had been found dead in the jungle was Eric Gillian, self-employed as an antiquarian in Nafrece, specialising in tracking down obscure books. He had come to Gazth-Sonika on a business trip to find a book for a client. He had been in Gazth-Sonika for five days before he disappeared from his hotel – he had never checked out. He was found dead the next day in the jungle, at the bottom of a ravine a few kilometres from a small village called Dwaiho.

His client lists, maintained on his computer in Nafrece, had been deleted, so the owner of the book would be extremely difficult to track down. However, his financial records were salvaged; the last deposit in his Nafrecian bank account was a one million yur cheque signed by a Margaret Burton. Matthews had done a little extra checking; this Margaret Burton was the same one who had gone to Gazth-Sonika to find Vanessa Rene, bringing her personal assistant, Elenore Baker, with her.

Bond had to admit, Matthews and his people were nothing if not prompt and efficient.

Matthews ended with a question: should this avenue of investigation be pursued further?

Bond thought it over; he really only wanted to verify Lucille's story about the man who was looking for the book, which in turn was to verify what Madlax had said about Enfant's former leader looking for books. The book _itself _was irrelevant to the train of thought that had led him to ask Matthews to search for the information on Eric; he merely needed to know that it did, in fact, exist, and the fact that an antiquarian had indeed come to Gazth-Sonika and died in the manner Lucille had described was proof that her story was true.

If that much was true, it was just that little bit more likely that the rest of Madlax's story, about Enfant looking for books and wanting access to their mystical power, was also true.

He also wondered about Margaret Burton. A young woman with the same name as the colonel who had a callsign used by Madlax. A wild coincidence?

He looked over at Madlax. All that, just to determine whether or not Madlax was crazy.

* * *

Madlax shuffled up to Bond. He was hunched over his laptop, typing on its keyboard, his face illuminated by the glow from the monitor. "What are you doing?" she asked out of curiosity.

"Typing up a report," he replied.

After a few seconds, he finished his typing, set his laptop aside, folded up the miniature satellite dish, and packed it into its pouch. He then packed the laptop and satellite dish into his backpack and looked out into the jungle, as if deep in thought. After a few seconds, he turned to face her in the darkness.

"Does the name Eric Gillian mean anything to you?" he asked.

The name did sound familiar. Madlax thought for a few seconds. Where had she heard that name before?

That was it. He was looking for a book for a client a few months ago. It was only later that she would realise that the book was, in fact, Secondari, one of the three books Enfant was seeking.

"Yeah. He was a client of mine. A few months ago, he came to Gazth-Sonika looking for a book. One of the same books Enfant was after."

Now Bond was looking at her more intently. "Do you know what happened to him?"

Madlax remembered being disturbed by the outcome of that assignment. "He... he died."

"How?"

"He... committed suicide by walking off a cliff."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I don't really remember. It was a while ago."

Bond simply nodded. He looked over at her intently, appearing to be deep in thought.

"What about a Margaret Burton?" he asked after a few seconds.

Madlax's eyes widened. She gasped in surprise. _How did he know about Margaret?_

He probably knew all sorts of stuff – he was a government spy, after all. But _this?_

She could lie, she supposed.

"I don't know anyone by that name."

Bond appeared unconvinced. Madlax sighed.

"Umm... it's... complicated."

* * *

Bond frowned slightly. She was trying to brush him off again. Maybe there was some weird mysticism involved here, too, and she thought he would think she was crazy.

"I like complicated," he replied.

"Ok..." She paused, as if collecting her thoughts.

"It was a few months ago. A friend of hers had come to Gazth-Sonika looking for information on Enfant."

"What happened?" Bond asked.

"She found the information, but was targeted by Enfant. I was hired to protect her, which I did for a few days.

"Margaret came looking for her. We were all being pursued into the jungle by Enfant.

"We managed to get away from them for a few days... then... she..."

Madlax hesitated. "And... I couldn't protect her. I failed. She's dead."

This sounded familiar. Bond searched his memory for a name. It was a while ago, but he had heard of these events.

Finally, he had a name. That first briefing with Matthews... he had mentioned Madlax fleeing into the jungle with someone, and Matthews had just mentioned it again in that email. "Vanessa Rene?" Bond asked.

Madlax turned to face Bond. "How did you know?"

"I read the files when I arrived in Gazth-Sonika. All I knew was that she was found in the jungle." Bond regarded her silently for a second. "I'm sorry."

"It's... it's ok." Madlax sniffed.

It was getting darker by the minute, but Bond thought he could see a glint of moisture in her eyes. "So... what happened?"

"Limelda came out of nowhere. She was aiming for me, but I dodged the shot. Vanessa shot her, and she went off the cliff. But... Limelda got a shot off. Vanessa got in the way. And... she died."

"Limelda?"

"A sniper with the Kingdom Army. She was after me."

Bond nodded. "Right."

Bond was quiet as he thought for a second, considering what to say next. Pressing for more information on Margaret Burton wasn't appropriate right now. What Madlax was saying right now was emotional, cathartic. "You didn't get her killed. Vanessa, I mean."

"Maybe... but it's still not right. That bullet was meant for me. I was never able to forgive myself for it." Madlax turned to him, and he saw tears welling in her eyes. "Have you lost someone you cared about, James?"

Bond hesitated. He knew what Madlax was going through.

While trying to find wanted criminal Ernst Stavro Blofeld, Bond found himself courting Teresa di Vicenzo, daughter of a Corsican crime boss. It was originally part of a strange deal concocted by her father, Marc-Ange Draco; in return for him acting as a stabilising influence on her, Draco would give him information on Blofeld. While he was initially dismissive and only saw his new 'assignment' as merely holding up his end of the bargain, he found himself falling for Tracy. Eventually, he proposed, and she accepted. It would, he knew, be the start of a long and happy life together; there would be someone to come home to.

Tracy was killed in a drive-by shooting on the way to their honeymoon, an innocent bystander who had taken bullets meant for him. Her death still ground at him, even after all this time, and he still didn't like talking about it. In the days that followed, M, Moneypenny, and even Q had suggested he see the resident counsellor, but Bond flatly refused, instead occupying himself with a quest to hunt down and kill the man responsible – Blofeld. He caught up to him, only to find the man he had just killed was a double. He would duel with the real Blofeld once more, in a confrontation on an oil rig that would eventually kill him – or so he thought.

Blofeld didn't die on that oil rig that day. He would later emerge from hiding to menace Bond one more time.

Bond made sure Blofeld paid with his life during their last encounter. Dropped down a two hundred foot industrial chimney. Sure, it made him feel better – killing Blofeld had been immensely gratifying – but it didn't bring back Tracy. He had, however, learned to live with the loss.

He noted in passing that this really was significant for her – not only was she barely holding back tears, she also called him 'James' instead of going through the formality of calling him 'Mister Bond'.

So, yes, he had lost someone he cared about. He knew exactly what Madlax was talking about. However, there was nothing to say. Bond just sat there, watching her silently.

After a couple of minutes, he decided now was the time to get back to their original line of discussion. "What about Margaret?"

"Oh... Margaret..." Madlax sniffed, rubbing her eyes. "She was kidnapped by Friday. We went to find her."

"We?"

"Me and Margaret's assistant."

_Margaret Burton's personal assistant._ The name eluded him right now, but he remembered reading something about that a while ago. "And that would have been?"

"Elenore. Her name was Elenore."

Bond nodded. _That was it._

"She died as well. I don't know how."

"And Margaret?"

"I caught up with her, and then I killed Friday Monday. His headquarters was burned down.

"She should be safe in Nafrece now."

Bond nodded. So now he knew what had transpired when the church burned down.

After a while, he nodded again, reached over to the G36K and pulled himself to his feet. "I'll take first watch."

* * *

From the author: Teresa 'Tracy' di Vicenzo appears in _On Her Majesty's Secret Service._ Bond falls in love with and marries her, only for her to be killed at the end of the movie. She is one of two women that the cinematic Bond is considered to have 'fallen in love with', the other woman being Vesper Lynd from _Casino Royale,_ although Bond also develops emotional attachments to Paris Carver from _Tomorrow Never Dies_ and Elektra King from _The World is Not Enough._


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

* * *

Day 16

* * *

As planned, they continued north at first light. The topography and vegetation were still the same; relatively level ground with trees and bushes that were not growing densely enough to impede their progress significantly. As sunlight started to filter through the trees, the jungle grew progressively lighter. Every now and then a bird trilled or an insect chirped.

In spite of the peaceful scenery, Bond knew that the closer they got to the facility, the more likely it would be that they would encounter a Kingdom Army patrol.

Bond stopped and retreated behind a tree, raising his carbine. Behind him, he heard shuffling as Madlax stepped in behind him.

* * *

"What is it?" Madlax asked as she stepped behind the tree.

"Patrol ahead," Bond said. He gestured around the tree with his left hand before returning it to his G36K.

Madlax cautiously took a look around the tree. Bond was right: there was a fireteam of Kingdom Army soldiers ahead, wearing olive drab fatigues and armed with FAMAS F1 rifles.

"Looks like just the four," Bond observed. "Could be another fireteam up ahead, though."

_Easy._

"I'll deal with this," Madlax declared, stepping out from behind the tree.

"Wait!" Bond hissed.

Leaving the cover of the tree, Madlax confidently strode forward towards the men, drawing her P210s from under her flight jacket.

One of the soldiers turned in her direction. He raised his FAMAS.

Madlax raised her right arm, pointing the P210 at him. She pulled the trigger.

He went down with a round in his chest.

The rest of the fireteam immediately moved for cover. One of the soldiers went straight for his radio. The other two raised their weapons, lining up their sights.

Madlax dived for the ground as the first volley came her way. She turned the dive into a roll, coming back up on one knee next to a tree. Turning her head to her right, she pointed her right P210 out to the side at the nearest soldier. At the same time, she brought her left P210 up straight in front of her, aiming at the third soldier in the fireteam.

She pulled both triggers. She barely heard the pained gasps as both bullets struck.

This was her gift; a sense of where people were in relation to her without looking. She just... knew that someone would be there, and all she had to do was point a weapon in that direction, and it would be the end of them. It was this, more than her agility or marksmanship, that had kept her alive and allowed her to thrive in this environment.

* * *

From behind the tree, Bond turned around, raising his G36K and looking down the sights at the sound of the first gunshot. What he saw caused him to lower his carbine and stare wide-eyed.

Madlax rose from a crouch and was now twisting and turning in the midst of the trees and the gunfire, seemingly with reckless abandon. She moved effortlessly, gracefully, like a ballet dancer. In fact, that was what it looked like: a dance. Except this dancer was armed with 9mm handguns.

Bond observed she didn't _aim_ her weapons so much as _point_ them at her targets. Somehow, she was able to consistently score direct or glancing hits. The soldiers, however, continued fighting until they were struck with a direct torso or head shot, as several of Madlax's shots were glancing blows to the limbs or shoulders.

Another four soldiers emerged from the jungle, rifles at the ready. Their arrival seemingly meant nothing to Madlax; she continued spinning and twirling among the trees.

She only paused to reload her P210s, her use of both hands to eject a magazine and reload the weapon being the only thing to slow her down, and the fact that she had weapons in both hands and therefore had to juggle pistols and magazines was the only thing interrupting her smooth, elegant gracefulness.

Then she resumed her dance.

In seconds, they were all dead.

Madlax slowly turned on one heel, her P210s pointing away into the jungle. As if satisfied there were no further immediate threats, she finally lowered her weapons.

Bond cautiously came out from behind the tree, his G36K at the ready. He looked down at the bodies, pointing his muzzle at several of them as he did so, then looked up at Madlax.

"What... did... you... just do?"

Still holding both P210s, Madlax shrugged. "I killed them."

Bond stared at her. "You... that was... the most reckless... stupid…"

He barely had words for this. It was sheer stupidity. While he was impressed with her shooting and agility, it was blind luck that she wasn't dead. Was she asleep when whoever had taught her was talking about utilising cover?

Bond sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Whatever."

One of the fallen soldiers abruptly pulled himself up onto his knees, grunting as he drew his Beretta. He had been shot in the left shoulder; his uniform was stained dark red.

Madlax turned at the soft noise of rustling leaves as the man shifted. She raised a P210. Bond whipped up his carbine, his finger sliding inside the trigger guard.

The man's face contorted in pain, and he collapsed, dropping his pistol and falling on his face before Bond could pull the trigger.

There had been no gunshots.

Bond looked down at the fallen man. Sticking out of his back was a knife, nearly embedded to the hilt. The handle appeared to be made of wood, with what looked like brass furniture.

Bond looked up, scanning the jungle behind where the man had stood.

A figure emerged from behind a tree. Bond shifted his G36K, lining up his sights with the figure.

It was a girl.

The girl was in her late teens, with pale skin, light blonde hair that extended halfway down her neck and large amber eyes. A small braid hung from her left temple. She was more or less Madlax's height, perhaps a bit shorter.

She was clad in short blue robes, with a light blue garment tied over her shoulders as an abbreviated cloak, and another piece of light blue cloth acting as a skirt, held at the waist by a cloth belt. The cloak was decorated with two lengths of white cloth. Under these garments, she wore a dark blue shirt and shorts, and she wore form-fitting blue cloth bands that looked like guards on her forearms, and similar lengths of cloth on her shins. She wore leather sandals on her feet.

Madlax shifted to face the new arrival, a P210 raised. "Nakhl?" she asked, lowering her weapon.

The girl nodded and slowly walked over to them. Bond took a step back, keeping his carbine trained on her.

She finally stopped a few metres away. "It's been a long time, Madlax," she said. She bowed to Madlax in greeting, holding her hands together in front of her chest as she did so.

"You two know each other?" Bond asked, turning his head to Madlax, then back to the new arrival.

"Yes," Madlax replied. "This is Nakhl. She helped me once."

"Na-hal," Bond said, enunciating the name slowly. He reluctantly lowered the G36K, still eyeing her with suspicion. Just to be safe, he kept the carbine levelled at her from his hip.

Nakhl bent over and pulled her knife from the man's body. She casually wiped the curved blade against his uniform before returning it to its sheath on her belt. She looked up at Bond. "Who are you?"

"He's with me," Madlax said. "His name is James. James Bond."

Bond nodded curtly.

"I see." Nakhl studied him for a moment, looking into his eyes, before looking up and down Bond's form. Although he was a good twenty centimetres taller than her, and he still had his weapon pointed at her, she did not appear to be intimidated, merely curious.

"You are a foreigner," she finally said.

Bond nodded. "That's right."

"Why have you come here?"

Bond paused. How much should he say? Could she be trusted?

"He's here for Enfant," Madlax replied.

Bond turned to look at her sharply. She had just compromised him. _Great. If she was in Enfant's employ..._

Nakhl looked back and forth between Madlax and Bond. "You have come to fight Enfant?" she asked Bond.

He was compromised. He might as well play along... for now. "That's right," Bond said slowly.

He carefully considered his position. Nakhl just killed a Gazth-Sonikan soldier who was set on killing them. If she wanted them dead, she could have just let him shoot, uncertain as the outcome was. Then again, maybe she was waiting for them to turn their backs, and the killing of the soldier was an attempt to get them on side with her. Chong's death showed that Enfant weren't above killing their own.

Then again, Madlax knew her already. If Nakhl really was with Enfant, she wouldn't be on speaking terms with Madlax. Or would she?

In the meantime, they might as well ask her if she knew anything. If she really was on their side, what she knew could be useful. If not... what she told them could still be of interest. "Can you tell us anything about any activity in this area?"

"I have been observing the soldiers here for some time," she said. "They're defending something close. A secret facility hidden in the jungle."

"We know," Bond said.

"It's a concrete bunker," Nakhl said, "with a large antenna. I haven't been inside, but I can only assume it is well guarded. If that is where you want to go, the way will be dangerous."

"We know," Bond replied.

"Come with us," Madlax said. "We could use someone like you on our side."

Bond turned to face her, frowning. He still wasn't sure if they could trust her. He turned back to Nakhl for her response.

"As a Discerner, I cannot get involved," Nakhl said. "I can only observe, and wait."

"That didn't stop you from helping me before," Madlax replied.

A faint smile appeared on Nakhl's lips. "I will accompany you... to a point."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

* * *

Even though he had the GPS navigator, Bond made it a point to walk well behind Nakhl, to remove the chance of her trying to take them from behind. He left at least six metres between them. Of course, he still didn't trust her.

It seemed Madlax was more confident; she walked almost alongside the other girl. Clearly, she _did_ trust her. Bond wondered just how far back those two went.

As for Madlax herself...

His gaze settled on Madlax. He had wondered if Madlax could be trusted at all – he hadn't liked the idea of having an armed bodyguard sharing his hotel room, but the fact was, he still needed that guide. However, if she had an ulterior motive, she would have acted by now.

Her competence as a fighter was no longer in question, as far as he was concerned. By now, it was clear that in spite of her youth, she could hold her own in a fight. She was fast and agile, and a very good shot with a pistol.

However, he didn't like her seemingly impulsive behaviour, the way she threw herself into dangerous situations with reckless abandon. It was bound to get her killed.

* * *

As they travelled north, Bond noticed that the terrain here was less even than that immediately north of the river, with rocks and small inclines making the ground just that little bit more difficult to negotiate, and their pace slowed slightly as a result.

Leaves and twigs crunched underfoot. Every now and then, a bird trilled. Occasionally, the faint thump of a distant explosion could be heard, and the soft hum/buzz of a distant helicopter sounded twice.

Abruptly, Nakhl raised a hand, coming to a stop. Bond stopped, raising his G36K and stepping behind a tree. Madlax likewise stopped walking, bringing up her M24 up to a firing position as she fell to a crouch.

Nakhl lowered the hand and took a cautious step forward, peeking around from behind a tree.

From behind his tree, Bond narrowed his eyes, squinting as he looked past the nearest trees. Nothing.

Wait... movement, further away. A flash of cloth against a tree. A glimpse of dull metal.

Then he saw them.

Barely visible through the trees was a small group of men, armed with AK-47 assault rifles, coming in ahead and to their left from the west, about fifty, sixty metres away. The five men moved east slowly, their pace unhurried. The group's movements would cut across their intended path.

Judging by their dress – they wore mismatched combinations of worn, dirty civilian clothing and military fatigues – Bond assumed they were Galza guerrillas.

A recon mission? A raid on a Kingdom Army position?

For just a few seconds, Bond wondered if they could be of help. It wouldn't be the first time he had relied on locals for help while on an assignment. Perhaps these guerrillas knew about recent Kingdom Army activity in the area, or knew about the nearby facility.

He promptly dismissed the thought, briefly shaking his head. The fewer people who knew what they were up to, the better.

Wait... he had seen something move out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to his right.

A dark green object moved right next to a tree, about ten metres away. Bond shifted, raising the G36K.

A green snake slid slowly along a branch on the tree.

Bond raised an eyebrow at the animal. It wasn't moving towards him; as long as it stayed at a distance, the snake would pose no problem.

Turning away from the snake, his eyes flicked over to the pair of young women. Hunched over, Nakhl advanced slowly, using trees and bushes for cover where possible, with Madlax covering her with her sniper rifle.

Bond looked back up at the guerrillas, still heading east.

He shook his head again. They couldn't risk engaging them; the gunfire would attract the attention of any roving Kingdom Army patrols nearby, especially since they were getting closer to the facility – a facility that would probably be on alert since their engagement on the river yesterday.

Bond crouched, and, with his carbine raised, slowly shuffled over to Madlax, who had now taken off her backpack, gone prone, and was looking through the M24's scope. He moved slowly, carefully, to minimise the noise he made as his boots crushed leaves on the ground.

He saw that she was slowly turning the M24, tracking one of the men. He rested a knee on the ground and bent over next to her.

"Let them go," he whispered by her ear.

Madlax nodded, but continued to watch through the scope.

Bond looked up, watching the group of guerrillas as they passed in front of them. Using his binoculars, he could now make out their faces easily; although no voices reached them, he could see that they were talking among themselves. Their expressions and body language indicated casual conversation.

He lowered the binoculars and turned his head slightly to look over at Nakhl. If only she would hold off killing them...

Ahead, Nakhl stopped advancing, having crouched beside a tree. She turned her head slightly, watching the men. A hand slid down to the knife on her belt.

The guerrillas were close, within twenty metres. Bond saw that Nakhl's hand tightened on her knife's handle.

_Don't do it,_ he thought, as he looked over at her. _Don't do it._

Nakhl did not draw her weapon. The guerrillas continued east, oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.

Still watching them, Nakhl waited for a minute before drawing herself upright, turning away, and starting north again.

* * *

The terrain eventually became relatively level again, with only gentle rises and dips in the ground, but not before they were forced to stop again, to avoid a Kingdom Army patrol heading south. Their strategy was the same; take cover behind foliage or rocks, and wait for the patrol to pass.

Thanks to their slowed pace, it was nearly another two hours' walk from where they met Nakhl to the point where the first bunker was finally visible through the trees.

They stopped about seventy metres away from the edge of the clearing, at the crest of a slight rise. Bond and Madlax fell to a crouch, with Madlax once again setting the M24 on the ground, removing her backpack, and going prone. Nearby, Nakhl also crouched, settling behind a tree as she looked over at the clearing ahead. In the distance was what sounded like an internal combustion engine running at low speed; it was, Bond thought, either a vehicle's engine idling, or a fuel-powered generator.

Bond surveyed the clearing with his binoculars, with Madlax using the M24's scope.

As the satellite images indicated, the facility consisted of a trio of long, grey concrete bunkers arranged in an incomplete square in a clearing in the jungle. This angle allowed them to see into the clearing, through a gap in the corner formed between two bunkers; they could just make out the third bunker.

From what Bond could see, each bunker was ten or so metres tall, and easily a hundred metres long, probably more. At least one of the bunkers had a large gate with a metal roller door for vehicles to enter and leave. Mounted about three metres above the ground on each corner of each bunker was a rotating security camera.

Bond saw three jeeps parked in the clearing. There was no paving, only worn dirt. A boom gate with a guardhouse marked the entrance to the clearing. The guardhouse was manned by two soldiers; one inside, the other standing outside.

In the centre of the clearing was a lookout tower, manned by a single soldier.

Off to one side, he saw the source of the faint engine noise: a bank of electrical generators, six of them, lined up next to one of the bunkers. Each generator vibrated softly. Thin plumes of smoke wafted from each generator's chimney.

Mounted atop one of the bunkers was a matte black metal communications antenna, easily thirty metres tall. Several dishes were mounted on the antenna, each pointing in a different direction.

The clearing containing the bunkers was patrolled by a few solitary roving soldiers, armed with FAMAS rifles. It looked as if each man patrolled one side of the roughly square clearing. It took around five minutes, probably a bit more, for each man to walk the length of one side. There was a few metres' clearance between the bunkers and the trees.

Frowning to himself, Bond wondered if there was more of the facility underground. If so, it wouldn't be the first time he had come across 'secret' underground facilities.

Bond unlimbered his backpack and withdrew the PDA. Turning it on, he scanned for a wireless network. If they could access the computers remotely, there would be no need to risk an entry in order to access a computer.

Nothing. Bond looked over at the nearest bunker. If there were wireless networks in there, they were out of range. Accessing them from here was a case of wishful thinking.

Bond slid the PDA back into the backpack. He knew what he had to do next, and he knew that he had to do it alone to minimise the chance of being discovered, but he didn't like the idea of leaving Nakhl to her own devices, or even leaving her with Madlax. If she really was with Enfant, she could easily attract attention from a patrolling soldier in the clearing.

Bond narrowed his eyes at Nakhl. He had to risk it. He could only hope he was right about Madlax and Nakhl having history together.

"I'm going in for a closer look," he declared softly. "I'll need you to keep watch from here."

"What about the guard in the tower?" Madlax asked.

"Keep an eye on him. Don't shoot him unless I tell you to."

"Right..." Madlax drew the word out.

Bond pulled his radio out of a vest pocket and turned it on. Madlax reached over to her backpack, opened it, and fished her radio out, turning it on.

Bond pressed his transmit button twice. Madlax's radio hissed accordingly. Looking up at him, Madlax did likewise; Bond's radio hissed.

"I'll be in touch." Bond attached an earpiece to his radio, hefted his carbine, and rose to his feet.

Bond crept up towards the edge of the clearing, his G36K at the ready. He alternated between running – darting between trees and bushes – and slowly shuffling behind the trees.

Bond stopped about fifteen metres away from the edge of the clearing. Setting his carbine against a nearby tree, he swung his backpack around, reached in, and withdrew the satellite transceiver antenna. He opened the satellite antenna and rested it on the ground, the concave surface and central antenna shaft now oriented skyward. He reached over and turned the antenna's transceiver on using a switch set into the central shaft. Now, anything he transmitted would be streamed to SIS computers via satellite.

* * *

Madlax grunted to herself as she shifted ever so slightly. From this angle, she wouldn't be able to shoot the soldier in the guard tower without picking up the M24.

She shifted her arms and shoulders, carefully propping the M24's bipod on a nearby rock. Looking through the scope, she now had a clear shot at the tower. Good.

Madlax grasped the radio and pushed it gently, moving it near the rifle's grip. If she needed to use it, all she had to do was drop her right hand from the rifle to the radio.

To her right, leaves rustled. Madlax glanced up and saw that Nakhl had moved to crouch next to her.

"I'm going to find another vantage point," Nakhl declared.

Madlax nodded at her. "Right. You do that."

Nakhl nodded, straightened herself, and started walking away through the trees.

Turning her head, she looked over the top of the scope, at Bond. He had stopped to open the umbrella-like satellite dish and put it on the ground. Hunched over it, he did something to it, then rose to his feet.

* * *

Continuing on, Bond stopped short of the edge of the clearing. Crouching behind a tree, he set the G36K on the ground, removed the backpack, set it on the ground next to his carbine, and opened it. Taking the PDA, he brought it out of standby and started a new search for wireless networks. He sighed as he saw that the PDA could still detect no wireless networks.

Wait...

Fishing around in the backpack's inner pockets, he retrieved the pen. He held down the button on top, extending the writing tip. After two seconds, he released it. The PDA's screen indicated that the pen's relay antenna was active.

Bond raised his right arm and threw the pen into the clearing. It landed a few metres short of one of the bunkers' walls, out of the field of view of the nearest security camera. He looked down at the PDA and refreshed the wireless network search function.

Nothing.

Sighing, Bond pocketed the PDA in his vest and looked up at the soldier patrolling this edge of the clearing.

Bond only briefly glanced down as he hefted his backpack and picked up his carbine, keeping his eyes on the soldier. He would have to go in.

* * *

From the author: Admittedly, not a lot has happened in the last two chapters to advance the plot. I wanted to draw out the approach to the facility a little bit, and to (hopefully) demonstrate, at least briefly, that with potential enemies and engagements just out of sight, the jungle is the titular 'hostile territory'.

Chapter 20 was my attempt to introduce just a hint of emotional depth to the story, as well as show something that was only seen briefly in _Madlax_ – the crashed plane, which was supposedly never found.

Thanks for reading, and please continue to leave your reviews.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

* * *

Crouching by the tree, Bond waited silently as the soldier walked ahead.

The soldier was coming in from his right, and would cut across his path to the bunker. His rifle slung over his shoulder, the soldier glanced out into the jungle every few metres as he walked. Bond had been watching him while making his approach; he threw the pen into the clearing when the soldier had turned his head.

Now that he was closer, the bunker seemed a lot larger and more imposing than it did at a distance. There was only a couple of metres between his current position and the edge of the clearing, but then there was about seven or eight metres of dirt clearing between the bunker's wall and the treeline.

He would be exposed as he made his approach, and then there were no doors on this side of the bunker; the concrete walls were smooth. Grilles covering the openings to ventilation ducts punctuated the surface every few metres, but they were too high for him to climb into, and there were no handholds.

Setting the carbine down, Bond unslung his backpack again, resting it on the ground and rummaging about inside for the Sony compact digital camera. Drawing it, he turned it on and set it to stream video back to SIS receivers via the satellite transceiver.

Turning on his heel, Bond slowly panned the camera around the clearing. He stopped the recording and pulled himself behind the tree as the soldier approached his position.

The soldier passed in front of Bond, continuing to Bond's left. The soldier walked slowly, continuing on for another twenty metres, before finally reaching the end of this edge of the clearing. He then turned around and started going back the way he had come.

Bond raised the camera again. Changing to still frame mode, he took photographs of the bunkers, the lookout tower and the antenna array. He retreated behind the tree when the soldier arrived.

The soldier patrolling this edge of the clearing was coming back. Bond retreated behind the tree, pocketing the camera.

Pulling on his backpack, Bond looked over at the pen. It lay there on the ground, its silvery body glinting in the sunlight next to a small patch of grass. The soldier was only a few metres away from it. If only the soldier wouldn't look down...

The soldier kept walking, passing the pen. Bond waited another minute, then he picked up the G36K and dashed towards the bunker. He slowed to bend over and scoop up the pen.

Bond pressed himself against the bunker's wall, his left shoulder against the wall. Through his camouflage fatigues, he felt that the concrete was slightly warm in the sunlight as he pocketed the pen.

He was facing the soldier, who was still walking away, his pace unchanged. His back against the wall, Bond turned and slowly walked to his right, towards the end of the bunker.

He stopped about five metres away from the corner. The camera swung slowly on its mount, about three metres up. It was tempting to simply shoot it, but Bond decided to try avoiding it instead.

Watching it carefully, Bond crept up to the corner while the camera was swinging the other way, finally stepping right under it.

Bond looked over at the other bunkers. Just off to his right was the bunker with the antenna array atop it. On the far side of that bunker was the third bunker, the one with the garage for cars. The bunker with the antenna array was about twenty metres away – a quick dash, but he would be left wide open to be spotted by the man in the tower.

Looking up at the camera, Bond advanced from one end of the bunker's short side to the other. This corner formed part of the central clearing; Bond stopped short of the very end of the bunker's wall.

Kneeling, he looked over at the soldier in the lookout tower in the middle of the clearing. He lifted his G36K, looking through the sights, but he couldn't get a bead on the soldier; he was occluded by a support beam for the tower's roof.

Bond lowered his G36K, shuffled back two steps and tapped his radio's earpiece. "Madlax?"

A hiss. "I'm here," came the reply.

"The guard in the tower." Bond paused for a second. "Take him out."

The radio hissed. "Right."

After a few seconds, Bond heard the faint sound of a clap, or a loud click, coming from the jungle – the report of a suppressed weapon. Then his earpiece hissed. "Done."

Bond turned and looked over at the tower. He couldn't see the solider in the tower at all. He touched his earpiece. "Thank you. Hold your position."

Bond looked over at the other bunker's cameras carefully. He then looked up at the camera directly above him. If he timed this just right...

Hefting his G36K, Bond dashed towards the other bunker, running under one of the corner cameras just as it swept around to cover his approach. This corner formed part of the clearing in the middle of the three bunkers – he would be exposed until he managed to get inside.

This side of the bunker was directly opposite the boom gate that marked the entrance to the clearing. Bond was in full view of the two soldiers on guard duty at the gate – all they needed to do was turn to face the antenna bunker, directly opposite the gate, and they would see him.

His eyes on the two men at the boom gate, Bond swiftly strode along the long side of the bunker until he found a steel door, with a hole for a key set above the handle. Reaching over, his back to the wall, he tugged on the handle.

Locked.

Bond drew his keyring and unscrewed the bottom of the LED flashlight. Drawing out the lockpicks within, he set to work on the lock.

Sweat dotting his forehead, Bond glanced over his shoulder. Neither soldier at the gate was looking at him, but who knew how long it would be before they turned around?

He turned back to the lock. "Come on," he muttered to himself.

Finally, the lock clicked softly. Bond tugged on the handle; it turned, and the door swung in.

Bond hurriedly stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"I'm going in. Radio silence."

* * *

Looking around, Bond saw that the bunker's interior was darkened, illuminated only by the odd fluorescent tube; although there were fluorescent tubes set into the walls above every few metres, only every second tube was lit.

A deep hum filled the air, which had a metallic smell to it. Much of the space was occupied by steel girders – bracing for the antenna above, Bond mused.

Actually... all the girders seemed like part of the antenna itself, rather than internal bracing for the roof, almost as if the antenna was set in place first, and the bunker built around it.

Electrical sockets dotted the wall just above the floor every ten metres. A tall metal tool chest on wheels was set to one side. Bond checked two wooden doors, set at opposite ends of the bunker; they were unlocked, and they opened up to reveal small rooms where tools and spare parts were stored.

There were no security cameras that Bond could see. Aside from the tool chest, the small storage rooms and the steel girders, there was little else in the bunker. Certainly no computers.

Bond tried the PDA again. Still no wireless networks.

That meant one of two things: either any wireless networks were still some distance away or shielded by layers of steel and concrete, implying a large, underground facility, or that there were, in fact, _no_ wireless networks, meaning he would have to find the servers, or at least a desktop or other terminal to plug in to. This implied he would have to try the other two bunkers.

He sighed as he pocketed the PDA.

Off to one side was a steel door, set into the wall. He had taken a mental note of it before, but had postponed investigating it in favour of looking over the rest of the bunker's interior. Bond took a step towards it, but hesitated.

Bond set his G36K against a girder. He then pulled off his backpack and withdrew a C4 demolition block and the pouch of remote detonators. He opened the pouch and pierced the block with one of the detonators inside before attaching the block to one of the girders.

He repeated the procedure on another girder with another demolition block. While it probably wouldn't collapse the antenna, it would make a mess of things in here, and hopefully leave the antenna inoperable for some time.

There were two options for detonating the explosives: the detonators' standard remote control, or the remote built into his Rolex. Bond drew the remote control from his backpack and placed it into a pocket on his vest.

He pulled his backpack back on and picked up the G36K. Bond walked over to the steel door and opened it.

On the other side was a concrete staircase, the walls lined with concrete and illuminated with fluorescent tubes attached to the ceiling. Bond shifted his carbine, aiming it down as he descended the staircase.

* * *

As he descended, Bond felt the ambient temperature drop. The layers of concrete and earth between here and the surface must be insulating everything down here from the tropical heat.

The stairs doubled back twice on the way down. At the bottom was another steel door. This door, fortunately, was unlocked. Bond twisted the cool metal handle and cautiously opened the door a few inches.

He took a look through the crack. He saw a concrete corridor, with pipes and cables running along the length of the wall just below the ceiling. No soldiers.

Bond slowly opened the door wide enough for him to slip through. His backpack bumped against the door as he passed through.

On the other side, Bond slowly turned, covering each end of the corridor with his carbine in turn. Like the bunker above, this corridor was lit with fluorescent lighting set into the walls, although it was better illuminated. Save for the metal fittings, everything was made of concrete.

To the door's left was a right turn in the hall after about fifteen metres. To the right was a longer stretch of hall, eventually terminating with a left turn.

No security cameras, either here or at either end.

With no markings or signs to indicate which way to go, Bond turned around and headed right relative to the door. He walked slowly, his G36K at the ready.

After about a minute of walking and turning the corner, Bond found himself at the end of the hallway, facing another steel door. Slinging his G36K over his shoulder, he drew the P99 from his drop-down holster. He pulled the P99's suppressor from a pocket and screwed it on.

Holding the pistol out in his right hand, he reached for the door's handle with his left and turned it, slowly pushing the door open. The room beyond was darkened, but as the door opened, he caught the faint smell of solvents and other chemicals...

A janitor's closet.

Bond grunted with annoyance as he closed the door and removed the suppressor from his P99 and pocketed it. Turning around, he slid the P99 back into its holster and brought his G36K back around. Time to go back the other way.

* * *

After a minute, he arrived back at the door that led back up to the antenna bunker. This time, Bond kept walking down the concrete hallway, soon coming to the right turn.

The hallway around the corner soon became a metal catwalk overlooking a large, almost cavernous space, a rectangular room over a hundred metres long on each side. The walls were exposed concrete, while the floor was concrete. The catwalk Bond found himself on was about fifteen metres above the floor, and another five below the ceiling, which, like the walls, consisted of exposed rock, here with light fixtures drilled into it.

On the far side, occupying two thirds of the wall, was a large screen split into two parts: the left side bore a projected map of the world, with continents and national borders rendered in white on a black background, while the right side had a map of Gazth-Sonika in the same format.

Occupying much of the floor were several banks of computer terminals. Several had computer technicians seated at them. Some wore Kingdom Army-issued fatigues, while others wore civilian attire suitable for summer.

It was almost like a war room. One could probably coordinate Gazth-Sonika's entire military from this room.

As above, there were patrols of roving soldiers in olive drab fatigues and armed with FAMAS rifles, patrolling the floor. Bond could only see two soldiers, but for all he knew, there were more out of sight, and possibly dozens in the other two bunkers above, waiting for the order to come below.

The catwalk ran along the wall on three sides of the hall, leaving the projected map clear. Metal staircases descended down to the floor at two points along each side's length, and steel doors were placed along each catwalk's length, set into the walls.

As far as Bond could see, there were no security cameras.

Bond drew the PDA from his vest and tried searching for a wireless network again.

Nothing. He sighed softly. Would he have to try to access those computer terminals down there? He wouldn't have long before his position was overrun – assuming he was able to get down there undetected.

There had to be a server room or another terminal around here somewhere...

* * *

Bond entered the first steel door on the catwalk to his right, after turning the catwalk's corner and following it towards the large screen. His progress was slow, as he tried to minimise the noise his booted feet made against the steel of the catwalk. He held his carbine at the ready, pointing it down towards the war room below.

He was met by another concrete hallway, again lit by fluorescent lights set into the ceiling. Immediately to the left was a concrete stairwell, going down. He chose to descend it.

At the bottom was another concrete hallway. To his right was a door leading out to the war room. The hallway continued on to his left, with a sharp turn to the right about thirty metres up.

He turned left and started down the hallway.

For that matter... it would do to find the generators. A facility like this couldn't be powered by the six petrol generators he had seen up top. Those generators were likely meant for the bunkers up top, maybe for the antenna. There had to be more generators down here somewhere.

Bond heard faint voices, coming from up ahead and around the corner. Two people speaking loudly. Bond froze, raising the G36K.

Just up ahead and to the left was a door. He bolted over to it and twisted the handle.

It opened.

Bond stepped inside, closing the door as quickly as possible without slamming it shut.

The room on the other side was another darkened janitor's closet. He could smell the bleach as the door clicked shut. He hefted his G36K, stepping back and pointing the carbine at the door. The voices grew louder, and Bond could hear the sound of the men's footsteps on the concrete as they towards the door.

Now he could make out what they were saying. They spoke accented English. It sounded like they were talking about the food.

Good. That meant he and Madlax hadn't been compromised.

The footsteps stopped just outside the door. "Wait," one of them said.

Bond slid his index finger inside the carbine's trigger guard, resting it lightly on the trigger.

"What is it?"

"Hold on."

Scuffling. Bond held his breath.

One of the men grunted. "Almost got it."

Bond heard a small object fall to the floor.

"Damn rock in my boot."

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I was ignoring it. It was getting to me."

More scuffling.

"Ok, that's it. Let's keep moving."

Bond's shoulders sagged as he let out a breath.

* * *

The footsteps started again. After a minute of waiting, Bond cautiously exited the janitor's closet.

As he made his way down the hallway, Bond heard a faint humming that grew progressively louder. Finally, he came to a large double door. Printed on a sign next to the door was a single word: Generators.

Bond tugged on the handle. Locked.

Once again, Bond slung the G36K over his shoulder and pulled the LED flashlight from his pocket. He drew out the lockpicks and went to work.

Once on the other side, Bond saw that the generator room was massive, possibly up to fifty metres long by thirty wide. There were several large, boxy generators occupying the space in the room, neatly lined up in rows. These generators were far larger than the ones up top, and the ones closest to him visibly vibrated softly. A series of what looked like tubes made of a thick aluminium foil extended up from each generator towards the ceiling – probably exhaust chimneys leading to vents on the surface. The air had a faint scent of petrol to it.

Not all of the generators were active; Bond saw that a few of them were still.

Stacked against one wall, lined up in a row, was a series of large metal drums, each with a 'Flammable' sign. Fuel drums. There were at least two dozen of them.

A few, standing alone, had black pipes snaking out to a panel set into the wall with a series of gauges and dials. There were probably pipes in the floor that went up into the generators.

Beyond the stacks of drums was a single, massive liquid petroleum gas tank, about six metres long, with a diameter of about two metres. It was mounted on a low, custom-made trolley, which allowed it to be moved about, if need be. It, too, had a pipe leading into the wall. A second LPG tank rested on its own trolley along the far wall.

The entire facility was clearly designed to operate independently for a considerable length of time. Depending on power consumption, Bond guessed that the facility's fuel supply would last at least two months before it needed replenishing. Rationing would stretch that.

At the opposite wall was a large gate with a rolling metal door. He assumed that this was for service vehicles or men carrying drums of fuel. There was probably a service elevator on the other side, or at least an access ramp to the surface.

Bond drew another block of C4 from his backpack and walked over to the fuel drums.

* * *

Leaving the generator room the way he came, Bond continued down the concrete hallway. A few metres down from the door to the generator room, he stopped and turned around. It made more sense that the servers would be closer to the main control room; that way, control room staff could service them more readily. Of course, that carried with it the increased risk of detection by technicians or guards.

* * *

Eventually, Bond arrived back at the catwalk overlooking the war room. To his right was the large screen with the maps of the world and Gazth-Sonika; to his left was the wall with the door through which he had come after arriving at this level. The servers weren't on this side, so the next thing to try was the opposite side.

The technicians were still below, as were the roving patrols. Bond noted that there were no more guards than before, and there was no urgency among any of the staff, which meant his intrusion had still gone undetected so far. That would change, however, if someone tried to communicate with or check on the guard in the tower. Who knew how long that would be?

No sense in worrying about it – he had to keep moving.

* * *

After slowly and carefully making his way along the catwalk, Bond slipped into the door. Once again, he found himself standing at the end of a long concrete hallway punctuated by doors. He needed to get downstairs, hopefully not too close to the war room and its roving guards.

The first door was on the left, about ten metres down from the opening onto the catwalk. It opened onto a metal staircase heading down to the floor with the war room. Bond opened the exit door very slowly and carefully, looking cautiously out in the direction of the war room. Satisfied the coast was clear, he opened the door more fully and stepped out into the hallway.

Walking slowly away from the war room, he found what he was looking for, about four doors down: a door labelled 'Servers'.

* * *

Bond crept inside the server room. The room was cool, and the air was filled with humming from both the computers themselves and the air conditioning system meant to keep them cool. He felt the cool breeze from a nearby vent set in the wall.

The servers themselves were arranged in rows that ran deep into the room, tall, black and grey towers more than two metres tall that left corridors between them. LEDs blinked on their surfaces near various ports and DVD-ROM drives. Bond idly wondered how much data Enfant had stored here.

Bond walked alongside the rows of servers, which ran parallel to the sides of the room. He quickly came to the end of the rows of servers; to his left was the last row, to the right, the wall.

Set against the wall, about a quarter of the way along the wall's length, was a desk with a monitor, keyboard and mouse. Next to it was a standard-looking desktop tower, no doubt wired to all the servers. Walking over to it, Bond saw that the rows of servers were not continuously running down the length of the room; each row, or more accurately bank, of servers was about fifteen servers long, followed by a gap that created another walkway between the rows of servers, and then the row continued on for another fifteen servers.

Bond removed his backpack, dropped it on the floor, and set his carbine on the desk before sitting down at the desk's chair.

Glancing at the door, Bond drew a pouch from his backpack. He withdrew one of the small USB devices within, which looked just like normal USB flash drives, and plugged it into one of the tower's front USB slots. He pulled a USB cable from the backpack and plugged his PDA into another slot.

Bond looked over at the servers. He picked up a second USB device and walked over to one of the server towers. Finding a USB slot on it, he attached the second device, for good measure.

With any luck, the USB devices would now use the servers to access the Internet and start communicating with SIS computers, thus giving quick access to the Enfant computer network.

He had to make this quick – Bond had no idea if the Enfant servers would detect the intrusion, or how long he had until they did. But right now, struck by curiosity, Bond wanted to see for himself what Enfant had.

Bond returned to the desk and withdrew his laptop and another USB cable. He selected a server tower at random and plugged the USB cable into the first slot he could find. He plugged the other end into the laptop.

* * *

The SIS technician in the safehouse's underground facility yawned and reached for a cup of coffee. Finding the cup, his eyes returned to the monitor as he raised the cup to his lips. The contents had cooled considerably.

He frowned in curiosity as a small icon at the bottom of the monitor blinked.

An uplink of some sort.

The tech set the coffee cup down and returned his right hand to the mouse.

Double-clicking the blinking icon, the tech saw on the newly-loaded window that the computer had been given remote access to another terminal. Could it be...?

The tech opened another program and started a trace to find out where the newly-accessed computer was.

The location was in the middle of the Gazth-Sonikan jungle. Wait...

The tech loaded another window, showing another map of Gazth-Sonika. This map had the location of suspected Enfant computer terminals and hubs. He compared it to the trace map by placing the two windows side by side, then loaded prior trace data on the new trace map.

No way.

"Mister Matthews!"

William Matthews jogged over. "What've you got?" he asked.

"We've got access to a terminal. It traces to a location in the jungle – it's the Enfant comms hub!"

"No shit," Matthews said under his breath. "He did it. He actually did it!"

Matthews continued to stare at the screen for a few more seconds, as if deep in thought, before looking down at him. "Right. Start downloading right now. Everything. This should all be going straight to London, but I want everything forwarded ASAP."

"Yes, sir," he replied.

* * *

The laptop immediately detected the link to the server. Bond opened a program that gave him the same access to the Enfant database as any user.

The program took just under a minute to give him the required access. He saw that the data could be searched by selecting different fields.

What he saw surprised him. There were all sorts of data here: bank accounts, tax records, payroll data, credit card transactions. Beyond the financial data was information about individuals: licences, enrolments, memberships of organisations, employment histories.

_Enfant has been busy._

Then Bond heard a faint sound barely audible over the ambient hum; the shuffling of feet coming from outside.

He'd been compromised.

He set the laptop down and softly walked to the end of the row of servers. He then took a careful peek around the corner, back towards the entrance. He saw at least two soldiers, flanking the door, barely visible. There were probably more stacked behind them.

"Alright," a gruff voice said. "Stack up. We'll enter in five seconds. Watch your fire; avoid shooting the computers."

He looked over at the desk, at his carbine. Grabbing his laptop and yanking the USB cable, he quickly strode over to the desk and snapped up the weapon and his backpack. He closed the laptop and stowed it behind the desk before retreating deeper into the room.

Bond turned the corner of the last row of servers and knelt down. Setting his G36K on the floor, he drew another C4 block and a detonator from the backpack, piercing the block with the detonator. He applied the block to the server tower in front of him before picking up the G36K.

He heard the door being rammed open, heard several pairs of booted feet as the soldiers made their way into the room.

Bond pulled a flashbang grenade from a pouch on his vest. Pulling the pin, he lobbed it down the aisle between the rows of servers before drawing himself back behind the server.

"Grenade!" one of the soldiers yelled.

Bond heard a loud bang, followed by several shouts and at least two bursts of automatic gunfire.

"I can't see, damn it!"

"Shit!"

Bond turned around the corner, raising his carbine. At the far end, he saw three men stumbling about, rifles swinging back and forth.

His ears ringing slightly, he fired down the aisle. While suppressed, the weapon's report was still surprisingly loud in the confined space. He saw two men go down, and he quickly stepped across to the next row of servers.

"Two men down!"

"Hostile at the far end!"

"Move up! Get him!"

"Can't see for shit!"

"Damn flashbang!"

Bond swiftly crossed between the next two rows of servers. Looking down the aisle between them, he could see the door. He started down the aisle, his carbine raised.

He arrived at an intersection between two aisles, running at right angles to each other. He turned right and stepped left into the next aisle.

Directly in front of a soldier.

Bond's finger tensed on the trigger as he threw himself to the right. His shoulder hit a server, and he slid to the floor.

The soldier's muscles contracted as he was shot. His arms jerked up and he fired a burst from his FAMAS. In a second he fell to the floor, dead.

"Gunshots! Move up!"

Bond pulled himself to his feet and jogged down the aisle to the end with the door. Almost there...

All the soldiers were deeper in the server room, leaving the door clear. He sprinted over to the door and slowed as he nearly skidded through it, grabbing at the door and pulling it shut. On the other side, he turned in the direction of the stairs and the war room.

The same direction as four soldiers standing in the hallway, their rifles aimed at him.

"Drop it," one of them ordered. "Now."

* * *

From the author: To my readers, sorry it's taken me so long to update this story (well over a year!), but a combination of writer's block and being busy have prevented me from adding this latest chapter. Hopefully future updates will be more frequent.

Thanks for reading! Please continue to leave your feedback!


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

* * *

Nicholas Kozlowski sighed as he leaned back in his chair. He'd been at this for a while, but still... being in charge took a lot out of you.

He had been recruited by Enfant just over a year into his employment at Bookwald. At the time, he was a young administrative assistant, his first job out of university. He had been told by two suits that he was needed to keep eyes and ears on his colleagues – apparently, Bookwald had been the target of industrial espionage. Eager to please, he readily agreed.

It would be some time before he learned the truth – that what he had just joined was, in reality, the criminal organisation Enfant, which had considerable sway within Bookwald – Enfant members had the ear of several members of the board of directors.

He found himself climbing the corporate ladder, obtaining transfers to different divisions, making himself indispensable to his superiors, being given more and more responsibility, eventually becoming a senior liaison between Bookwald's Gazth-Sonikan branch and the head office. Finally, he was transferred, having been promoted to head of the Gazth-Sonikan branch.

At the same time, he made himself known within Enfant. Initially used just as an extra pair of eyes and ears within Bookwald, there, too, he was given more and more responsibility, eventually overseeing drug smuggling operations in Nafrece. He would eventually learn that Bookwald was essentially a corporate front for Enfant – a fact known only to a select few.

He also oversaw Enfant's early forays into cybercrime, an area that would eventually become Enfant's primary focus. Cybercrime had caught the attention of their unseen and unnamed head, who would then devote considerable resources to building Enfant's computer infrastructure.

Looking back, he was almost certain Enfant had had a hand in his professional success. He had also come to know that there would be some price for his continued success within Bookwald and Enfant – he recalled the time when he had been told about a senior executive who was caught selling information on Enfant's activities to a rival criminal organisation a few years ago. The man and his family were all killed.

Knowing that he could endure a similar fate sickened and frightened him. He didn't sign up for this, he had thought, but it was too late: he had brought this upon himself, and he had to live with it.

* * *

Upon his transfer from the head office in Nafrece to Gazth-Sonika, Kozlowski became Enfant's top man in the Gazth-Sonikan branch of Bookwald – he was the first to know anything Enfant had to do with the company's local branch, and as such, he finally met Friday Monday, the mysterious and hitherto unnamed head of Enfant. It definitely wasn't his real name, he had thought; almost immediately, he wondered what the man's real name was, or why he had chosen that particular pseudonym.

Seeing Friday for the first time, even though it was just on a computer screen, was a shock. He had had no idea what to expect, but seeing Friday in his weird half-mask, the right eye covered with a red lens, was more than a little disturbing. He could only assume that Friday wore it to cover some sort of scar on the right side of his face.

Friday was typically content with emails or videoconferencing whenever Kozlowski reported to him, but whenever it suited him, Friday asked to see him in person. The problem with that was that Friday refused to leave his headquarters, an abandoned church out in the jungle, and so Kozlowski travelled there either by helicopter or by jeep.

The first time seeing Friday in person was disconcerting. The man seemed to emanate some sort of air of menace, and his demeanour seemed to say that he would have you killed just because he could. Sometimes, Kozlowski imagined he could see Friday's right eye through the lens set into his mask. He couldn't help but think that the whole time, Friday had been quietly sizing him up.

Fortunately, Friday liked him enough to keep him alive, it seemed, and he even decided to make him his second-in-command.

He also found himself liaising with Friday's right-hand man, Carrossea Doon, a mysterious jet-setter who frequently flitted between Gazth-Sonika and Nafrece. The man gave him the creeps, and not just because of his weird, amber eyes – despite his innocent, unassuming appearance, Carrossea had a shifty, creepy demeanour. Kozlowski suspected that he was the one who did Friday's dirty work.

* * *

Kozlowski eventually came to suspect that Friday's attention lay elsewhere, although what exactly occupied his attention, he didn't know. It was something about the way Friday conducted himself during their infrequent face-to-face meetings; he seemed indifferent, as if what Kozlowski was presenting to him was trivial. Whatever it was, Madlax, the rumoured mercenary agent, had apparently been involved; once Enfant had a face to go with the name, Friday started shifting resources dedicated to her capture. He knew that Friday was a capricious sort, seemingly doing things on a whim or just because he could, but this was different; significant resources and assets were tasked with finding her.

As Friday's second-in-command, he also held sway with a lot of Enfant's agents, and so had the loyalty of many within the organisation. This loyalty acted in his favour – after Friday and Doon's deaths, he promptly asserted himself as head of Enfant, swiftly putting down opposition to his supremacy.

Which led him to where he was today.

A window on his monitor appeared. A video call. Kozlowski clicked on the window's accept button.

"Yes?" Kozlowski asked.

The image of a blond man appeared in the window. "It's me," Throckmorton said. "I have an update for you, sir."

* * *

Bond was shoved forward as he was marched back to the war room, flanked by five soldiers. He had been deprived of his weapons: the G36K, his Walther, his combat knife, and all the remaining grenades, as well as his radio, the remote for the C4 and the backpack with the remaining C4 and detonators. He still had the ammunition in his vest and on his left thigh, but it wouldn't do him much good without weapons to fire it with.

There was no telling whether or not his intrusions had been discovered, but even if they were, it was too late; SIS had had access for long enough to obtain almost everything they needed to know about Enfant. Nor was he concerned about them gaining access to the data on the laptop or PDA, or to use them to access SIS servers; Q Branch had installed failsafes on both devices to prevent unauthorised access.

They finally entered the war room. Standing among the technicians and flanked by two soldiers was a large blond man with a crew cut, wearing an olive combat uniform. A hulking, imposing presence, the man was at least two inches taller than Bond. He turned from a monitor to face them as they approached.

"This is the intruder?" he asked as they approached.

Yes, sir," the man to Bond's right said. "We found him in the server room."

The man turned his attention to Bond, looking up and down Bond's form before looking him in the face. His brown eyes seemed to bore into Bond's face, but he met the man's gaze with an expression of indifference.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked in a deep voice.

Bond had no intention of talking. He gave no reply.

The man frowned slightly. "We'll try something else. What are you doing here? How did you find out about this facility?"

Bond still gave no reply.

The man turned to one of the soldiers on Bond's left. "The backpack."

The soldier stepped forward and set his backpack on the desk by one of the computers. The large man stepped over to the desk, opened the backpack and looked down into it before withdrawing one of the unused blocks of C4. "What's this for?" he asked, looking back up at Bond and holding up the block.

Bond continued to look at the man coolly. _What do you __**think**__ it's for?_

"How many have you planted?"

Bond remained silent.

The man returned the block to the backpack. "You alone? How many more are there?"

Bond had no intention of giving up Madlax. "None," he finally replied. "I came alone."

The man raised an eyebrow. "So _now_ you choose to talk."

"Sir," one of the men said, walking over to the large man, "his radio."

The man took the radio and spoke into it. "Whoever this is, we have your friend in custody. Respond now, or we will kill him."

The radio remained silent; either the signal wouldn't reach the surface from this far underground, or Madlax had the sense to remain silent.

Dropping the radio on the desk, the man turned to the other men in the war room, pointing at some of them. "You three, stay. The rest of you, sweep the entire facility for any explosives. Tell every man up top to start searching for his friends."

All except the nominated three snapped to attention. "Yes, sir," they all said in something approximating unison.

When the other men all left, the large man turned to a nearby computer and started typing and moving a mouse. "I think Mister Kozlowski will want to talk to you." He adjusted a webcam clamped to the top of the computer's monitor.

Bond saw that the man had opened some sort of voice chat or teleconferencing program: Kozlowski's face appeared in the window.

"Yes?" Kozlowski said over the computer's speakers.

"It's me. I have an update for you, sir."

"Update?" Kozlowski asked.

"We found an intruder inside the comms hub."

"What?" Kozlowski's face contorted in anger and surprise.

The large blond man reached over and dragged Bond into the camera's field of view, grabbing him by the arm. "We found him in the server room. The guy was well armed and equipped. He's barely talked, so far."

"Oh." Kozlowski appeared somewhat surprised. "I must say, it's a surprise to see you, Mister..." Kozlowski paused for a second, as if trying to recall his name. "Bond."

"Kozlowski," Bond said in greeting, nodding. "I was hoping to see you again. I wanted to schedule another blackjack game, but I thought it would be better to try and find you so I could ask in person."

Kozlowski seemed almost amused; he gave a brief, fleeting smile. "Perhaps. But it'll have to wait. In the meantime, I have a business to run."

"What business is that? Hacking government servers? Or illegal arms sales?"

"You chose your words carefully the other night. Knowledge is power, Mister Bond." Kozlowski smiled again, but this time, it was a patient, condescending smile. "While Enfant is not _absolutely_ powerful, we're getting there."

Kozlowski leaved forward slightly, the condescending smile fading fast. "So, Mister Bond... What are you, really? MI6? SAS?"

_As if I'd tell you that. _Bond remained silent.

"So, did you find anything interesting in our servers? I can only assume that was the reason for your intrusion."

Bond remained silent.

Kozlowski gave a dismissive wave. "Ah, well. You'll tell me, later," he said with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what was going to happen next. His eyes shifted slightly on the screen; Bond assumed he had turned his attention to the large blond man. "Is he alone?"

"That's what he says, but I've got people scouting the periphery."

"Let me know if you find them. Have your men exercise _extreme_ caution. He's working with Madlax."

"Madlax?" The blond man turned to Bond. "Is that true?"

"Who's Madlax?" Bond asked.

"You were with her at the casino, Mister Bond," Kozlowski said. "Please don't lie to me."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Kozlowski gave an irritated grunt. "Get it out of him later. I have business to attend to."

"Business? So, Enfant is just something you do on the side?" Bond asked.

"I try to keep Bookwald and Enfant separate. Bookwald's interests come first, but sometimes... the two overlap. On that subject, I have an important videoconference meeting with our head office in Nafrece, which I must attend to."

Bond snorted. "Business first."

"Quite right, Mister Bond. In the meantime, I'll leave you in Mister Throckmorton's care. I'll be sure to come by and visit you at the first available opportunity, and perhaps we can have that game of blackjack." Kozlowski grinned.

"Mister Throckmorton? Please make Mister Bond uncomfortable, but... at the same time, please try to refrain from killing him _right_ away."

"With pleasure."

"Oh, as for Madlax... if you could please bring her in _alive,_ that would be a great help to me."

Throckmorton nodded. "Got it."

Kozlowski smiled in derision. "Goodbye, Mister Bond."

The monitor went blank.

Throckmorton picked up Bond's radio and spoke into it again. "Madlax," he said into the radio, "We know you're out there. Surrender now, or we'll kill Mister Bond. You have ten minutes."

Still no response.

The tall, muscular blond man sneered at Bond as he walked over to him. Without warning, he swung his large right arm back and punched Bond in the gut.

Bond gasped in pain and surprise, and he doubled over, falling on one knee as he clutched at his gut.

"Tell her," he commanded, shoving the radio in his face.

Bond looked up at him defiantly, his eyes narrowed with pain. He instead started to rise to his feet.

"Suit yourself," Throckmorton said softly, dropping the radio on the desk again. He then caught Bond in the face with a roundhouse punch that connected with Bond's left cheek. Off balance, the punch sent Bond to the floor.

"That was for my old boss," Throckmorton declared.

"Your old... boss?" Bond gasped through the pain. He tasted blood in his mouth.

"I used to be with SPECTRE. I had it good there, you know. Then you had to go and fuck it all up."

"Ah, yes, SPECTRE." After the shock of the second punch, Bond was initially surprised that the man recognised him as being responsible for SPECTRE's downfall, but then again, thanks to his encounters with Blofeld, he was probably well-known to its agents.

Bond wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand as he painfully drew himself up to his full height. Glancing down at his hand briefly, he was hardly surprised to see a streak of red on it. "How are the old crew?" he asked sardonically as he rose.

"We had to split up, thanks to you. I was poking around various criminal groups for years, trying to re-establish old contacts, before I was recruited by Enfant."

He looked Throckmorton in the eyes, defiance still in his eyes. "And Blofeld? Oh, wait. Last I saw Blofeld, I believe he was at the bottom of an industrial chimney in London. Did you furnish him with the wheelchair?"

Throckmorton growled in anger. He raised a fist as if he was about to punch him again, but he seemed to have thought better of it and lowered it. "I'll save the fun for later. Get your ass moving."

* * *

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	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

* * *

Bond had been in there for a good twenty, thirty minutes, Madlax thought, looking over at the clearing. She wondered how long this was supposed to take, or if he needed help.

_I need to go,_ she thought. _I need to go help a friend._

The thought surprised her. _A friend?_

Ally, definitely, but friend? That was an odd thought. Even though they had been operating together for nearly two weeks, she couldn't really call him a friend. They'd gotten off to a frosty start, and he hadn't exactly played nice with her. That was changing, though; she could tell he respected her abilities, although he seemed less than impressed with that last gunfight. So, why did she suddenly attach the label 'friend' to him?

A soldier climbed up the ladder into the observation tower in the idle of the clearing. Madlax frowned, adjusting the M24. She had been afraid of this.

The soldier stopped without stepping up into the tower, his head level with the floor of the tower's cabin. After a second, he pulled a radio from his belt and spoke into it.

Madlax turned slightly towards her own radio, lying next to her right hand. Could she risk breaking radio silence?

She looked out onto the clearing again. A door on one of the bunkers opened, next to the garage for the jeeps. Madlax shifted slightly, looking through the M24's scope.

She saw that several uniformed soldiers had emerged from the opened door, bearing rifles. They immediately set off into the jungle to the north, away from her. She frowned.

She turned to her right; Nakhl was nowhere to be seen. Madlax pulled herself to her feet, picking up her backpack and the M24. She had to leave.

Slinging the backpack over her shoulder, Madlax turned and started moving to her left. She moved slowly, slightly hunched over. Leaves crunched softly underfoot.

Rustling, behind her. She turned – to be confronted by two soldiers who had their FAMAS rifles levelled at her. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she took a sharp breath. She unconsciously clutched the M24 to her chest.

Behind them was movement and noise – rustling branches, leaves being crunched underfoot. More soldiers.

"Goin' somewhere, are you?" one of the two men in front of her asked in a deep voice.

Madlax narrowed her eyes at him for a second. "Errr... through you!"

She whipped up the M24, striking the man who had spoken across the face with the rifle's butt. The man stumbled and fell onto his back.

She shifted her left arm, hitting his companion in the face with the barrel. The second man staggered back. Madlax quickly brought the M24 around to fire at him from the hip. She pulled the trigger, and he took the round in the chest.

As the soldier fell, she brought her right hand up to operate the bolt, rotating the handle, pulling it back, pushing it forward, and rotating it back. She swung the M24 around and fired on the first soldier. He fell back against the jungle floor, dead.

She heard shouts of alarm coming from the jungle to the east. More soldiers were approaching. Madlax fell to one knee and looked out into the jungle over the top of the M24's scope. She saw shadows move between the trees.

She brought herself back up, turning at a soft noise – only to come face to muzzle with another soldier's FAMAS. The man stood about a metre away.

"Nice work there, gunbunny," the soldier said. "But it ends here."

Impossibly fast, Madlax dropped and came around with a sweeping kick that sent the larger man tumbling to the ground.

Her twisting caused her to release the M24. Crouched over the man, Madlax drew a P210 from within her flight jacket and brought it to bear. The soldier fumbled, drawing a Beretta.

Madlax whipped her hand across, striking the man on the temple with the P210's barrel. He fell back against the jungle floor, unconscious.

Behind him was another soldier, approaching fast, his weapon raised. Madlax raised her arm and fired a shot, striking him in the chest. A second shot saw the man go down.

She heard shouts coming from the jungle to her left. She drew her other P210 and started jogging towards the noise, moving from cover to cover behind the trees.

She heard shouts of alarm in the distance. The gunshots had drawn the patrols' attention. She had to end this quickly – or get away fast. Perhaps her best chance was to run for it and double back.

Madlax turned and started running away from the installation. As she ran, she fired shot after shot into the jungle at the approaching soldiers, trying to discourage any pursuers.

Something grabbed her right foot.

Her eyes widened and she grunted as she fell to the ground, losing her grip on her right P210.

She took the fall on her side. She gasped in shock from the fall.

Her right foot hurt. Looking down at her foot, she saw that she had tripped on a tree root.

She lunged for the fallen P210. Snatching it up, she turned and fired two shots at a pursuing soldier.

Two more soldiers were behind him. She shifted and fired again. Both men ducked behind nearby trees.

Rising to a crouch, and then to her feet, she fired again, one shot going wide, the other barely missing its intended target, but this time, both slides stayed back instead of cycling forward. Empty.

The two remaining soldiers approached from behind the trees.

"Uh-oh," Madlax said under her breath.

One of the men chuckled as he approached, his FAMAS levelled at her from his hip. "We've got ya now, Madlax," he said in a cool tone that was, at the same time, filled with arrogant self-confidence.

Madlax allowed her arms to hang by her sides. There was only one thing left for her to try.

Madlax whipped her arms out, throwing both P210s at the men. The pistols struck the men on the heads. She rushed in, grabbing one man by the shoulder and tripping him up with a sweeping low kick that connected with his calves. As she fell to one knee, the soldier falling in front of her, her right hand shot down to her leg and drew a combat knife from her right boot, which she threw at the other soldier. He took the blade in the chest, and he crumpled to the ground with a pained grunt.

Still crouching, Madlax looked down at the first soldier, the one she had tripped up. He was quickly recovering. She snatched his FAMAS and turned it in her hands before striking him on the forehead with the butt.

She shifted her hands, holding the FAMAS by the grip and looking down the iron sights. Two more soldiers approached from the north-east. She fired a three-round burst at each of them, and both men crumpled and fell.

Her eyes scanned the trees. _That should be all of them..._

Madlax sensed movement to her left. She whirled, turning – to aim the FAMAS at Limelda Jorg.

Standing about ten metres away, the older woman was dressed in green woodland fatigues, her long black hair tied back. She was armed with a Heckler and Koch MP5 – an MP5 that was aimed at her head. Strapped to her back, secured by a sling, was a rifle – Madlax guessed it was Limelda's PSG1.

"It's been a little while, Madlax," Limelda said.

"Limelda," Madlax replied coolly in greeting. "Haven't done this in a while. What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same thing."

Madlax hesitated for a second. How much should she tell?

"I'm here for Enfant. Word on the street was that Enfant had a communications facility hidden in the jungle, so... here I am."

Madlax shifted, lowering the FAMAS ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. "So, how about you?"

* * *

Limelda had been following up on Madlax since she saw her at the mall a few days ago. Using her old Army contacts, she learned of a boat chase upriver sometime yesterday, south of the rumoured location of a classified Army facility in the jungle, the existence of which had apparently been beyond her previous security clearance – she had never heard of any such facility existing officially. Seeing it now, she was impressed with the scope of the facility – and annoyed with the fact that something this big had been kept from her and, it seemed, most of the rest of the Kingdom Army. Rumour had it that Enfant was involved here, so with a facility this big, chances were some senior officers knew about it, maybe even the Army Commander.

Limelda still harboured a resentment of Enfant for maintaining the civil war – a civil war that had killed thousands and affected thousands more, taking her own family and prompting her to enlist. Although she was more interested in what Madlax was up to, following up on Madlax _and_ investigating an Enfant facility at the same time was an opportunity that could not be passed up.

She knew, of course, that Madlax was no friend of Enfant, either – in that, they had something in common. The enemy of my enemy...

She decided on a reply.

"The same."

* * *

Madlax eyed Limelda. Her body still flush with adrenaline, her breathing was shallow, almost panting. She felt a large drop of sweat trickle down her left temple.

She had no idea what Limelda was really doing here. Was she here for her? Where did her loyalty lie? She didn't believe the other woman would shoot, but you never really knew...

She decided to gamble. She slowly lowered the FAMAS, slinging it over her shoulder.

"I'm going in," she declared. "If you're going to stop me, do it now."

She turned away and walked over to her fallen P210s. Picking one up, she removed the empty magazine and shoved it into a pocket in her backpack. She then produced a fresh magazine from within her flight jacket and inserted it before holstering the weapon. She repeated the procedure with the other P210.

Walking among the dead soldiers, she started collecting weapons and ammunition. She would have vastly increased firepower, but the trade-off was limited mobility and agility.

Madlax pulled the Beretta from the holster of a dead soldier. Setting the pistol on the ground, she took the belt and holster, removed the magazine pouches for the soldier's FAMAS from the belt, and put it on over the waistband of her hotpants, under her flight jacket. She secured the drop-down holster's thigh strap over her right thigh before picking up the Beretta and holstering it. Madlax then picked up the FAMAS magazine pouches and attached them to the belt.

"What do you think you're doing?" Limelda asked. "There must be at least a platoon of men in there, possibly even a whole company!"

Madlax turned to face her as she picked up a dead soldier's Remington pump-action shotgun. She saw that the other woman had lowered her submachine gun. She conceded that Limelda had a point; she wasn't the same woman who had faced off against a platoon of infantry and their attack helicopters and won. However, she had no intention of leaving Bond.

Behind Limelda, Nakhl reappeared, panting for breath. Nakhl looked first at Limelda, then at Madlax.

She regarded both of them for a second as she bent over again to unbuckle and pull the dead soldier's ammunition bandolier from his torso. She donned the bandolier before she slung the shotgun over her shoulder.

"Well?" Limelda asked.

She wondered what to say as she walked over to the soldier with the knife in his chest. She pulled it out and cleaned the blade on his jacket before sliding it back into the pouch on her boot.

She finally decided to tell them what she would do – they were about to find out, anyway. Maybe they would help, maybe not.

Madlax unlimbered her FAMAS and cradled it in her arms before replying. "I'm going to help a friend."

_And this time,_ she added to herself as she turned away from Limelda and Nakhl to face the bunkers in the distance, _I won't fail._

* * *

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